Anchor Leg: A Sci-Fi Mystery Novel

torch aimed down at a body floating just above the floor. It’s
handcuffed to a workbench.

– She’s been tortured, – Artis sends.

Nine

I try my best to remain composed. I float down, hold my reader to the
corpse’s half-decayed forehead and take my sample.

It’s impossible not to notice the wounds though; long, clinical cuts
along exposed forearms, a missing index finger and thumb on the left
hand. I see there’s a bullet hole in her chest too. Deceased. DNA
Recorded .

– Why would someone do that to her? – Antonio sends.
Neither I nor Artis answer. What happened aboard this ship is a
puzzle I’m starting to think I don’t want the solution to.
– We need to keep moving, – Artis sends, reaching out to the wall
and pushing himself off, – we’re on the clock, remember. –
He’s right. And my reader is telling me we’re still behind schedule.
Time to pick up the pace, concentrate on the mission. I push away
from the body and Antonio follows me back through the workshop. A
floating razor blade catches my eye as we ride through, I try not to
wonder whether it’s responsible for what we’ve just witnessed.
– Shouldn’t we call in what we saw? – Antonio asks, as we clamber
back into the corridor. It’s a good point, but Bakalar told me to contact
her if we found anyone alive, not dead and tortured. Besides, the
Charybdis will have seen everything through our helmet cams. If we
we’d have done something wrong Zuma would have been in contact.
Probably.
– We should keep going, – I send back.
The next hatchway is only meters away, but we have to pass through
a soup of clothes and junk to get there. At one point, a long red gown
tangles around my leg and I kick it off like my foot’s stuck in a
crocodile’s jaws.
The second hatchway is almost a mirror image of the first. We
assume our door-opening positions (me hinge-side, Artis and Antonio
anchored to some kind of maintenance box further along the wall) and
I pull the handle. Nothing happens. – It’s locked, – I report.
– Antonio, – Artis sends, – get over there. –
Apparently having no reservation in placing a hand on Artis’s
shoulder and a foot to his thigh, Antonio clambers around him. She

gently pushes off and drifts the short distance along the wall to the
hatchway. As she arrives she reaches out to the handle with her right
hand, towards my chest with her left. Body contact etiquette is notably
redundant in zero-G, something my earthling sensibilities are still
getting used to.

Stationary in front of the hatchway’s ad-pad, Antonio extracts a box
tablet from her holster. It’s the same gizmo Phyleon used on the
airlock door. She pulls a short cord from its side and attaches the
suction pad at the end to the ad-pad’s fingerprint reader. The box
tablet screen lights up and she navigates a series of menus at a good
pace. After a few seconds there’s a loud clunk and she pulls the suction
pad free. – Hydraulics solved, – she sends, already floating back
towards Artis.

Once she’s safely behind him, I take a deep breath and pull the
handle. The hatchway swings open, the door shielding me from the
innards of the room. I wait for something horrible, a bloodcurdling
yell, a zombified body … it doesn’t happen.

– Can’t see shit from here, – Artis sends from the maintenance box,
– I’ll go in and check it’s clear. –

I open the door all the way and Artis disappears inside. Along the
wall, Antonio gives me a curt smile through her visor. Maybe she’s
trying to show me she’s not scared anymore, maybe she’s just being
nice.

– Clear, – Artis sends, inviting us in.
I follow him inside, hopeful I won’t see anything as bad as before.
It’s another workshop, smaller than last one, less holo screens too.
There’s not much junk floating around so my torchlight reaches the
bullet holes raked along the far wall. As I turn to watch Antonio come
through behind me, I see that the wall to the right of the hatch is
potmarked too.
– There was a firefight in here, – Artis sends, confirming what I
already know. He’s in the corner of the room searching through a trio
of tall lockers.
– It’s so confined, – I send, – the fight can’t have lasted very long. –
– It was a rifle against a handgun, – Artis discloses, – so I doubt it
did. High power firearms as well, not pinch weapons. The shooters
were taking big risks with the ship’s structural integrity. –

A quick scan of the room shows me that there are no bodies, no real
reason to stay. I kick off anyway, float over to the nearest bank of holo
screens.

– No power to the computers, – I send, after I’ve tapped a few
interfaces to no avail. The third computer along is splattered with dry
blood, the fourth blasted to pieces. – It’s strange, there must be power
because we have temperature, not much but enough to prove that the
power hasn’t given out. Why isn’t anything else working? –

– Let’s move on, – Artis sends back, floating away from his lockers
and ignoring my question.

Back in the corridor we battle onwards through more junk,
eventually reaching an open door at the end of it. Artis checks the
other side and then I slip through. Another corridor filled with dust
and crap and soot. I check my hand tablet. – Crew Quarters, – I send,
as I read it from the screen. – Eight rooms to check and we’re still
behind schedule. –

I can already see the first doorway lit by the furthest reaches of my
torchlight. I kick off, do a half-spin and land with all fours pressed
against it. Maybe I’m starting to get the hang of this zero-G thing after
all.

– Open her up, – Artis instructs, coming to a rest on the wall
opposite the door. Antonio is still waiting by the entrance of the
corridor. Once the access is open I know she’ll push away and glide
through the gap without so much as grazing an arm.

I pull the door open and Artis aims his torch and rifle through. –
Clear, – he sends. Must be a small room if he’s satisfied from there.

I scramble around the door and see that it is. The cabin is even
smaller than my meagre quarters aboard the Charybdis . There are
four cramped bunkbeds and a tiny bathroom in the corner, its door
swinging ajar. There’s scarcely room for a person to stand.

I float over to the bunks and a quick sweep with my torch reveals
only a few personal effects drifting free; a tablet, a plastic beer bottle, a
framed photo of a man, a woman and a little girl. There are no bodies.

– Why’s it so small? – I turn. Antonio is anchored to the doorway,
peering into the room. – I thought this was a VIP ship? This cabin is
tiny. –

– These are the cheap seats, honey, – Artis sends. – Terrestrials

stay in swanky residences up in First, scummy spacer crew sleep in the
back. – Artis is still in the corridor, hasn’t even bothered to come in.

– There’s nothing here, – I send, keen not to get into any earthling
versus spacer debate. – Let’s check the next cabin. –

We search the rest of Crew Quarters as fast as we can. Only a couple
of the doorways are locked (Antonio makes short work of them) and
most cabins are as empty and as inconsequential to the investigation
as the first. All of that helps us to regain some time, to get back on
schedule. Only the last cabin contains a body, a neat bullet hole to the
right temple. Deceased . DNA Recorded.

– Let’s move on, – I send, the second I have what I need.
The corridor culminates in another circular access. I pull it open,
Artis checks it, I climb through. The usual routine.
There’s no corridor on the other side though. I’m in a mess, a big
one. Plastic chairs and dirty meal trays float free in the dark. The
tables must be secured to the floor, they stand firm in neat, angular
rows under a roof criss-crossed by bulky silver struts. I consult my
hand tablet. Apparently there should be a kitchen and pantry off to the
left hand-side of the mess, and an airlock that leads to the hold
somewhere along the far wall.
– Antonio and I will sweep the mess, – I send. – Artis, you check
the rooms off to the left. – For some reason I half-expect him to refuse,
but he kicks off almost before my transmission ends.
– Which side of the mess shall I check? – Antonio asks from my
side.
– Right, – I reply, – I’ll do the left. –
I push off in the same direction Artis went in, aiming for the first
table along the row nearest the wall. As Artis pulls open the kitchen
door, I grab a leg and halt myself. There’s cutlery floating under the
table, what looks like a bottle of ketchup and a cuddly toy bear. This
ship, it’s like a poltergeist’s playground.
I search under and around my tables, keeping tabs on Antonio as
we go. I feel a strange responsibility to keep her safe whilst she’s across
the room on her own, the burden of leadership I guess.
– Kitchen and pantry clear, – Artis reports, as I reach the last table
in my row. – No more bodies either. –
– Nothing but more junk on my side, – Antonio adds, as I see her

torch light come level with mine across the room.
I send, – Same. – And then, – Everybody to the airlock access in the

centre of the far wall. –
It’s closest to me, so I get there first. I watch Artis and Antonio glide

over the tables as they head towards me. It still looks strange, seeing a
pair of humans in flight. Maybe as an earthling it always will.

– There’s an airlock on the other side of this? – Artis asks, as he
parks himself by the door.

– Yes, and the hold is on the other side of that. –
– It’ll probably be locked then. –
I pull the lever and find that it is. – Solve it please, Antonio. –
Antonio pulls out her box tablet, finds the ad-pad with her torch
and gets to work. It takes her a little longer than any of the other doors
she’s cracked, but eventually it jolts, the hydraulic lock giving way.
We assume our door-opening positions and I pull the lever for a
second time. Artis sends – Clear. – before I’ve even got it fully open.
We float inside to find an airlock quite different to the one Bakalar
docked our shuttle with. It’s a similar size but instead of a small
hatchway at the end there’s a colossal blue one, perfectly circular and
bulging outwards. There’s a space-facing window too, the first I’ve
seen throughout all of Second.
– Looks like a damn vault, – Artis sends, as he shines his light from
one side of the mammoth hatch to the other. – Any chance it’s
unlocked? –
I float over and grab the giant lever, scarcely able to get my fingers
around it. – Brace, – I warn, remembering what happened the last
time I was in an airlock. The lever doesn’t budge though, not that I
expected it too. – Can you solve it? – I send, looking back at Antonio.
She floats over and shines her torch at the ad-pad on the side of the
door. It doesn’t look like any of the other ad-pad’s I’ve seen aboard the
Scylla . It’s more like a personal tablet glued to the wall.
– I’ll give it my best try, – she replies. But she doesn’t reach for her
holster, she slides a hand behind her shoulder and pulls a blue case
from her suit pack. The blue mystery case Phyleon gave her in the
shuttle.
She opens it to reveal an imbedded holo screen, cables and what
looks like a big wad of pink chewing gum. She removes a clump of the

gum, sticks it on the side of the ad-pad-tablet and then pulls out one of
the leads. The cable doesn’t end in a suction pad, it ends in a kind of
silver probe. She plunges the probe into the gum and attaches the
other end to a port in her case. A holographic menu materialises
before her and she gets to work. – I’m afraid this may take a minute, –
she sends, bringing up an ocean of computer code.

I have no chance of following what she’s doing so I turn and look out
of the airlock window. I can see the Charybdis , the only non-celestial
object visible. She stares back at me, similar in design to the Scylla .
The Scylla as she once was at least. There’s a carousel, an EN Drive at
the back and a central fuselage too. The Charybdis ’s fuselage is giant
compared to the Scylla ’s skinny midriff though. It’s bigger because it
contains a vast hold, much bigger than the one we’re about to enter.
Thinking about it, I’m just as clueless about what’s in the Charybdis ’s
fuselage hold as I am about what’s in the Scylla ’s carousel hold. The
Charybdis is a mining transport so possibly drilling machinery, mechs
perhaps. As for the Scylla ’s, Gods only know.

I’m pulled back into the room by a hefty jolt and then the sound of
something mechanical turning.

– Hydraulics solved, – Antonio announces triumphantly, packing
up her case, gum and leads. I can see Artis smiling through his visor.
He’s impressed, although he doesn’t transmit it.

‘Earthlings or spacers?’
All three of us spin around. There’s a man standing outside the
airlock entrance with a rifle. He’s wearing a suit with no helmet.
‘Earthlings or spacers?’ he yells again, raising his weapon.

Ten

Before I can say or do anything, Artis fires. The rifleman darts from
view as the recoil from Artis’s weapon sends him crashing back against
the blue hatch.

– Contact, – I hear Artis send, as he pushes off towards me, –
individual armed and hostile. – Then, with his rifle still trained on the
airlock entrance, he shoves something into my chest with his free
hand. I look down, it’s a pinch pistol.

– Take it, Terrestrial. –
I’m about to tell him I’m not trained but Bakalar’s voice crackles
through my headset first. – Copy that, engage. –
Artis has let the pistol go now. It’s hanging in front of me, spinning
mesmerically. He floats forwards and I grasp it, not quite sure what he
expects me to do with it. – He’s got no helmet, – I send, – how’s he
breathing?’ –
No reply because the rifleman shows himself again, appearing on
the opposite side of the doorway to when he dived away. The pop of
Artis’s pinch rifle forces him to retreat before he can get a shot off,
forces Artis into the airlock wall.
– Shit, – Antonio sends from behind me, – he must have floated
over the top of the doorway to get at us from that side. –
– Bastard knows zero-G alright, – Artis replies, gently pushing off
the wall. – Any time you wanna pitch in, Terrestrial, be my guest. –
I raise my pistol. I didn’t even think about firing a moment ago, I
need to stop flaking, regain my nerve. I take a deep breath and push
off after Artis. Antonio follows.
We make it to within four feet of the door without the rifleman
showing himself again. Is he dead? No, he can’t be. If Artis had made a
kill shot there’d be blood everywhere.
– We can’t stay here, – Artis sends, as we all stop against the wall, –
he’s got us trapped. I’m gonna throw a quick smoke out there. As soon
as it blows, follow me out. Get under the nearest table and stay there.
If he finds you, shoot first, ask questions later. –
Artis plucks a shiny bauble from his belt, presses the button on top
of it and hurls it into the mess.

He kicks off as there’s an almighty bang and, a second later, there’s
grey smoke everywhere. Without allowing myself time to dither I grab
Antonio with my free hand, kick off and yank her out of the airlock.

Gunshots as soon as we’re in the mess. Bangs rather than pops, the
rifleman is using a high power weapon. I can just make out the angular
shape of the nearest table through the smoke. We’re on course for it.
Letting go of Antonio I reach out my free hand. I grasp a table leg and,
feet flailing against the floor, I manage to bring myself to a halt.
Antonio crashes into me as soon as I stop, sending my pistol flying in I
have no idea what direction.

– He’s going to blast a hole in the side of the ship with that thing, –
Antonio sends, as rifle fire is met with pinch pops.

– Artis will take him out before that can happen, – I reply. – Shit,
lights off, – I add, realising that the glow of out helmet torches might
give our position away.

We go dark and the weapons fire stops, like we switched that off
too. It’s pitch black and deathly quiet. Has somebody been killed?

– What do we do? – Antonio sends, in a tiny, frantic whisper. I wait
to see if Artis replies but no instruction comes.

– We sit tight, – I send, not because I know we should, but because
I can’t think of anything else to say.

My blood pulsing, I stay as still as I can. A minute passes, maybe
much longer. I know that it only takes thirty seconds for smoke from a
quick smoke to clear, so if we turn our lights on we could make a break
for the mess door. But we’d be sitting ducks with no weapon. A bad
idea.

I consider tapping the button on my wrist to broaden my
transmissions. Artis might be dead, maybe we should call Bakalar for
assistance.

Before I can make a decision, a bang accompanied by a stream of
brilliant, illuminating sparks. Artis has thrown a light grenade.
Antonio sends an expletive through comms and I see the rifleman
kicking off from the mess floor. Our eyes meet for a split second as he
flies towards the roof struts. He knows where we are.

– We have to move, – I send, – we have to get to a better hiding
place. – I kick off and regret it immediately. There’s weapons fire as I
travel, I see sparks on the floor all around me.

‘Die, spacer—’ I hear from above me, but the shout is smothered
and the gunshots silenced by the pop of pinch rounds. Artis is covering
me from wherever he is. I make it to the next table and brace for
Antonio’s impact. Nothing happens. I look around. The light grenade’s
radiance is fading but I see Antonio on a different trajectory to the one
I took, heading for a different table. She reaches it safely and stops
herself underneath.

More high power weapon fire from above. A thought passes through
my mind, I was so stupid. There’s no upside down in zero-G, no
correct alignment in any given space like there is on Earth. I never
even thought to search the mess roof. It must have been where the
rifleman was concealing himself, using the struts as a hiding place.
Bad mistake, bad leadership.

And then I see it. Between Antonio and me, my pinch pistol hovers
in the air. Protection. Redemption.

Antonio is looking at me, shaking her head inside her helmet. But
the light’s almost gone, it’s now or never. I kick off from a table leg and
fly out into the open. My aim was good, I’m closing in on my weapon. I
reach out a hand. I’m going to get it, get it and fly right under
Antonio’s table afterwards.

I’m slammed into the mess floor just as the room goes dark. I can’t
see anything but I know the rifleman is on top of me, pinning me
down. I lash out with every one of my limbs. And then there’s light.
Antonio has switched on her helmet torch and is surging towards me. I
see the glint of a blade just as she smashes into the rifleman and I’m
freed. I look backwards and watch the rifleman/Antonio tangle plough
into the table I was just under. The knife. The rifleman is forcing it
towards Antonio’s torso, Antonio trying desperately to hold his arms
at bay.

My pistol is right in front of me, lifeless in the air. There’s no time to
think. I grab it, right myself and kick off all in one movement. As I ride
I take aim and pull the trigger a millisecond before the knife infiltrates
Antonio’s suit.

The rifleman’s head snaps back, the pistol recoil sends me spinning
out of control. I’m twisting violently in the air, amongst blurry
globules of blood and brain. More light. An impact. Somehow I’m not
moving anymore. I’m in Artis’s arms, I can hear myself screaming, feel

myself struggling to get free.
– It’s okay. – I hear Antonio’s voice say from a million miles away.

And then she’s in front of me, looking through my visor. – You got
him, we’re safe now. –

I stop flapping and Artis lets me go. I stoop over and try not to be
sick in my helmet. I’ve seen dead bodies before but I’ve never seen
anyone die, I’ve never actually killed anyone. It takes me back home,
completes the picture. I have the stupid urge to pull my helmet off, to
escape my suit. But then I feel Antonio’s hand on my shoulder. It
helps.

– Hostile neutralised, – I hear Artis send, – Temples took him out.
–

– Temples? – Bakalar responds. – Is anyone hurt? –
– Negative, we’re all fine. Hostile must have run out of ammo
because he came at Temples with a knife. She took him out with a kill
shot to the head. –
– Copy that. Have you completed your mission? –
– Negative, we still need to search the hold. –
– Then do it. We’re almost done here, complete your search and
we’ll meet back at Port 2. –
– Copy that, – Artis sends, – switching back to closed comms. –
My head is swimming, but I’m forcing myself to breathe slowly and
deeply, attempting to slow my pounding heart.
– Did you hear that, Terrestrial? – Artis sends. – I ain’t babysitting
here. You need to buck up and get your ass back into the airlock. We
need to make up for all the time we’ve lost. –
– I’m fine, – I reply, but a crack in my voice betrays me.
– Give her a moment, – Antonio sends. She reaches down to my
holster and takes my hand tablet. I don’t protest. She pushes off and
floats towards the rifleman’s limp body. I turn away, I don’t need to
watch her take the sample.
I switch my helmet torch back on and illuminate the darkness in
front of me. At some point I must have let go of my pistol, it’s
travelling slowly across the mess with a meal tray in tow. Artis floats
over and retrieves it.
A couple of minutes later and we’re back in front of the giant blue
hatch. I’m still feeling pretty unsteady and that’s not good. Anything

could be waiting for us in the hold, I need to be ready.
– Open it, – Artis sends, looking at me. Gingerly, I move into

position.
Antonio having already solved the lock, the lever works straight

away. There’s a surge of air and I have to dart out of the way of the
swinging door before it crushes me. Gods, give me a break.

– I’m going first, – Artis sends, moving through the opening with
his rifle poised, – follow me. –

I clamber around the door and go through second. The hold is
cavernous. Cavernous and empty save for the desk-sized blue box at its
centre. It’s strapped down with thick blue ties. I’m not sure I want to
know what’s inside it.

– Where’s all the … stuff ? – Antonio sends, as we float through.
Artis traces his rifle around the walkway skirting the upper reaches
of the hold before he answers. – Might be that stuff was never here. –
I look to the giant access at the back of the hold. – Could that door
have opened? Sucked everything outside? –
Artis doesn’t bother to reply. He lowers his rifle and braces to stop
himself against the blue box. Once he’s come to a halt, he turns and
stretches out his arms. He guides each of us to a firm stop by his side,
one after the other.
– There’s a keypad on top, – Antonio sends, running her gaze over
the cargo. I’m inspecting it too. But I’m not looking at the keypad, I’m
looking at the box itself. It’s so smooth, almost reflective.
– Reckon you can get it open? – Artis asks.
Antonio is already reaching for her blue case before she transmits
her answer. – I think so. –
Another wad of gum on the side of the keypad, another cable
linking it to her holographic screen. I watch her work this time. She
cruises through menus and monotonous lines of code with ease,
stopping only to enter her own input or to switch to a second interface
whose purpose I can’t quite decipher.
A loud beep and the top of the box opens, the deep blue somehow
sliding into itself and revealing an access I would never have guessed
was there. There’s a hiss and a small eruption of white smoke. Neither
Artis nor Antonio seems fazed so I don’t push away when the smoke
runs over my suit.

– Just like Christmas, – Artis sends dryly.
The smoke soon disperses exposing a long row of deep indents
along a kind of white plate. Only one of them is occupied.
– It’s a vial, – Antonio sends.
Artis reaches in and plucks it out, holds it up in front of his visor.
The clear glass sides reveal a red substance, frozen solid. – Blood, –
Artis sends.

Eleven

After Artis reports to Bakalar, the rest of the shuttle ride back to the
Charybdis is undertaken in near silence. Not that I was really listening
to the conversation, there’s blood on my suit. It wasn’t so noticeable in
the gloom of the Scylla . But aboard the shuttle, fully lit and with no
mission objective to concentrate on, the stains are obvious. I wonder if
any blood has soaked through my suit’s membrane, if my skin will be
tainted red too. Maybe I’ll never be able to scrub it off. I’m a killer
now, I’m just like them.

– Copy that, reading good attachment. – It’s Captain Zuma through
my helmet headset. His voice pulls me back into the shuttle. We must
have docked with the Charybdis , we’re back in regular G too. –
Bakalar, report to the Bridge as soon as you’re aboard. – And then,
almost as an afterthought. – And bring your apprentice with you, I
want to speak to her as well. –

Once Zuma signs off Bakalar clambers through the shuttle, stops in
front of Artis and removes her helmet. I realise everyone else is taking
theirs off too. I make myself do the same.

‘Boys,’ she says, ‘out. Go back to the briefing room, change and
come back with trolleys for the equipment. Antonio, Temples, stay
here with me.’

As the boys leave through the rear of the shuttle I realise that
Antonio’s suit is even more blood-stained than mine. No doubt
because she was right next to the rifleman when I shot him.

‘There should be spare jumpsuits in the silver case beside Phyleon’s
seat,’ Bakalar says, once the boys have gone, ‘we’ll change before we
leave.’ She doesn’t say that the sight of Antonio and I covered in blood
is something the crew of the Charybdis shouldn’t see. She doesn’t need
to.

As soon as I have a jumpsuit, I begin to peel my skinsuit away from
my body. I’m relieved to be met with pale skin free from even a single
drop of the rifleman’s blood. I’ll never complain about giving the
skinsuits a diagnostic again.

Once I’m down to my underwear, I pull on the jumpsuit. It’s baggy
and, as I watch Bakalar and Antonio slip into theirs, I see that it’s the
same for them.

‘Antonio,’ Bakalar says, once we’re all changed, ‘you have my thanks
for volunteering. I’m sorry the mission turned out to be so trying.’

‘It’s okay,’ Antonio answers, ‘I was glad to help.’
Bakalar nods. ‘It’s time for you to head back to Tech, but please keep
what you saw aboard the Scylla to yourself.’
There’s just enough time for Antonio to hand Bakalar my bloody
hand tablet before she leaves. I manage a weak ‘Goodbye, Antonio.’
and then it’s just me and Bakalar.
‘It’s a difficult thing,’ Bakalar says, ‘killing someone. But from what
Artis told me, you saved Antonio’s life. You did the only thing you
could have done. The only right thing.’
‘I – I made a mistake,’ I admit by way of reply. ‘I never checked the
roof of the Mess before we moved on to the hold. Antonio was almost
killed because of it. If I’d have done my job properly Antonio might
never have been endangered.’
‘The mission was high-pressured, difficult and time-constrained.
Any navigational error you may or may not have made was rectified
when you pulled that trigger.’ Regardless of what Bakalar says I’m sure
she regrets putting me at the helm of Beta Team. How could she not?
‘I know you’ve been through a lot,’ she says gently, ‘but are you up
to accompanying me to the Bridge to speak with Captain Zuma?’
‘I’ll be okay,’ I answer. Despite what I’m feeling, what the violence
and blood took me back to, my desire not to let Bakalar down again is
strong.
‘That’s good, Seren. Let’s go.’
We exit the shuttle and pass through the airlock into First,
apparently having docked with the same port we left from. We walk to
the Bridge, Bakalar carrying a small silver case I assume contains the
vial of blood. Someone probably put it in there whilst I was lost in my
thoughts.
Our walk is punctuated with the accusing looks and paranoid
whispers that are fast becoming the norm. Bakalar seems not to notice
anything the crew say or do but I expect that’s a deliberate act; she’s
assuming a strong and unyielding front.
A finger to the ad-pad and we’re on the Bridge. ‘Bakalar,’ Captain
Zuma says, as the blast doors close behind us and he shuts down some
holo table interface, ‘I’m glad you and your team are okay.’

‘Thank you,’ Bakalar answers, as we join him by the table. ‘You
asked for us to report to you?’ I have a quick glance around the Bridge
as she speaks. Petrova and a female apprentice are working at the holo
screens, long lines of log code and non-standard interfaces.

‘Yes,’ Zuma answers. ‘We were monitoring your camera feeds, your
comms, but I want it from your own mouths. What the hell happened
out there?’

‘I assume,’ Bakalar begins, ‘you noted the smoke damage as soon as
we boarded?’ Zuma doesn’t correct her. ‘Well, that was the case
throughout almost all of the main corridors leading up to the Bridge.
Looks like there was a fire, but it was contained before it could do any
catastrophic damage. We found bodies throughout First, but not
nearly as many as I was expecting.’

‘You think the Scylla was running on a skeleton crew?’
‘No, I don’t. There was a large patch in the corridor outside of the
Bridge, good seal but only a temporary job. Some of the crew could
have been sucked out of that, or possibly disposed of after what was
clearly a gunfight or multiple gunfights. It seems probable that high
power weapons used during the shootings were responsible for the
breach. As for the damage to the EN Drive, we found no explanation.’
‘Tell me about the Bridge.’
‘The Bridge was in a decent state compared to the rest of the ship
but, even so, everything was running in low power mode. Have you
started working through the uplink Phyleon set up?’
‘Petrova’s on it.’
‘Has she found anything?’
Zuma looks to the holo screens. ‘Petrova, status?’
Petrova answers without turning away from her work. ‘The uplink
connection is good, but whoever used the Bridge computer last
dumped everything from the memory banks and archives. It’s difficult
to wipe a drive completely though, so I’m seeing if I can salvage
anything.’
‘Any idea how long the process might take?’ Bakalar enquires.
‘A few hours maybe.’
‘And what about you, kid?’ Zuma is staring at me now, dark,
bloodshot eyes scrutinising my face. ‘Walk me through what happened
with Beta Team.’

I’ve been dreading this. Going back through what happened, and so
soon. I just hope I can get through it without throwing up. ‘There were
soot stains throughout most of Second too. Plenty of bullet marks, no
breaches or seals that we saw though. We found three bodies, four if
you include – if you include …’

‘It’s okay, kiddo,’ Zuma says, ‘that asshole left you no option but to
take him out. Just tell me all you can about him.’

‘He came at us from behind,’ I say, ‘most likely because I didn’t
think to search the mess roof. He wasn’t wearing a helmet, I don’t
know how he was breathing, but he shouted, “Earthlings or spacers?”
at us. You might not have heard that through comms. He had a rifle so
Artis fired at him, and he shouted something else about us being
spacers during the fight too. After I … immobilised him, Antonio
sampled his DNA. That might tell you who he was.’

‘Well relayed,’ Zuma says, before looking to Bakalar. ‘Any idea how
he was breathing?’

‘No,’ Bakalar answers. ‘My air sample read low oxygen, high carbon
dioxide. High hydrogen sulphide and high carbon monoxide. You
might be able to breathe it under low exertion for a short while, but
you’d be dead in minutes.’

‘So how the hell was this guy up and fighting for so long?’
‘He must have had an air tank stowed somewhere,’ Bakalar
theorises. ‘Have you looked at the DNA yet?’
Zuma shakes his head. ‘We have everything you recorded but we
haven’t run any of it.’ He crosses his arms and thinks aloud. ‘None of
this makes any sense. With shit for air why didn’t this asshole just go
to the Bridge and get it sorted? Or, if he couldn’t, why didn’t he make
for Göhr in the shuttle anchored to First? I know Dione’s more than a
stone’s throw away, but the shuttles aboard Earth ships have EN
Drives, they’re not like the flimsy low-range ones we use.’
No one offers him any answers. ‘And why worry about who Beta
Team were? Rescue is rescue, surely it doesn’t matter whether your
saviours were born in the Relay or not?’
‘He seemed half-crazed,’ I say, ‘maybe he wasn’t thinking
rationally.’
Zuma ignores me. He gestures to Bakalar’s case. ‘That the blood?’
Nodding, Bakalar hands the case over to him. Zuma doesn’t open it.

‘I’ll get someone from Medical to come and take this. I’ll tell them to
run it through their machines, see what kind of blood it is, if there’s
anything special about it.’ He sets the case down on the holo table.
‘You should go run a debrief and then have your team get some rest.
We’ve done all that Relay law requires of us, I think it’s high-time we
sent a data packet to Göhr and gave them the Scylla ’s status. Let them
sort this mess out because, frankly, I’m starting to care less and less
about what happened here, or how much Göhr knew or didn’t know
about it.

‘As soon as they give us a revised docking clearance we’ll set off, get
back to doing what a mining transport should be doing. I’ll let you
know when we get their reply.’

‘What about the Scylla ’s memory banks?’ Bakalar asks.
‘I’ll keep Petrova on it, but only until we leave. I’ll get her to send
you anything she finds. You can have the blood and DNA results too if
you want, I have more important things to worry about.’
‘I’d appreciate that,’ Bakalar answers. ‘And after a debrief and
respite we’ll push on with the sensor malfunction investigation.’
‘See that you do,’ Zuma replies. It’s the last thing he says before we
leave.
After talking with the captain we head to Shuttle Port 1 and spend
what seems like an age helping the boys cart all of our equipment back
to the lockers. I let someone else deal with the bloody skinsuits and
hand tablet.
Bakalar waits until all the equipment is stowed to her satisfaction
before she starts her debrief. She goes over everything each team saw
and relays some of what we talked about with Captain Zuma. I barely
listen. I’ve come over desperately weary and I’m sure it’s only
adrenaline left over from the board stopping me from falling asleep in
my seat.
‘Back to your cabin, Temples,’ Bakalar says, as soon as she’s done
with the debrief. ‘Get some sleep and don’t worry about coming in
early tomorrow.’
I don’t argue. I get up, leave, head straight for my quarters. I start to
strip the second I’m through my cabin door.
‘Seren,’ my personal tablet says, once I’m down to my underwear,
‘Internal Message from Loic Buhari.’ I utter a weary sigh; it’s an

internal message from Edavane’s lab tech. Probably those stupid
Eurasia questions I promised to answer. ‘Mark as read,’ I say, just to
get my tablet to shut up. Sleep is all I care about now.

Twelve

A swarm of people all around, most of them head and shoulders above
me. But I’m determined to add my voice to the throng, to be heard.
What’s being done to us, the way we’re treated, it’s so wrong.

I shout and scream until my throat turns raw and scratchy. Then I
notice the crowd is thinning. I look to where people were standing to
my left just moments ago, chanting and singing, but they’re gone.
When I turn back the people to my right are gone too, and then the
people in front and behind me. I’m all alone beneath the subsector
gates. Alone save for the body in front of me. No , I think, not this again
. I take a single step forwards automatically, like I’m being controlled.
The corpse is right at my feet. A man, face down in the filthy mud. I
know who it’s going to be, but I reach down and turn him over anyway.
Wrong. It’s not who I thought, it’s the rifleman. His head explodes, I
scream. No one hears, no one cares.

I wake covered in a film of sweat. My heart is racing, I sit up in bed
and draw my knees into my chest. I’ve dreamed the dream plenty of
times before, but the body was always who I was expecting it to be,
never anyone else. Seeing the rifleman die, being the one who killed
him, it’s the final part of the picture. I found a bullet wound to the
head on that body as well. A tear trickles down my cheek, or is it just a
bead of sweat? I’m a mess, I should shower.

I stand under the hot water, washing the sweat and panic and
dream away. Maybe it helps, a little. Afterwards, I towel myself off and
pull on a fresh jumpsuit. I step out of my bathroom and survey my
cabin. It’s in desperate need of a tidy.

I circle the room, closing drawers, picking up dirty clothes,
chucking them into my linen basket as I go. Maintenance clean every
occupied cabin twice a week, but they make it clear that’s it’s not their
job to tidy. The state of my room, I imagine they’d step in, take one
look and step straight back out. Thinking about it, it’s been this way
for days, which means it probably hasn’t been cleaned for days. I
realise there’s dust everywhere.

As I pull an undershirt from the floor I find the photograph
underneath it. The picture of the blonde woman I don’t recognise

sitting at a desk. I shove the stupid thing into my rubbish bin like I
have done with every other one of my letters.

There’s a knock at my door. I freeze. My first thought is that it
might be the person who’s been leaving notes for me, maybe they’re
knocking to see if I’m here before they risk leaving another? My
temper flares, I’m in no mood for this. I’m going to answer and, if I see
someone with a letter, Gods help them.

My free fist clenched, I rip open the door. No one standing there
with a letter, it’s Antonio. Her brown hair isn’t tied in a bun anymore,
it’s free and hanging loosely over her shoulders. ‘Hi,’ she says, ‘I – er –
just came to see how you were doing.’

I realise my fist is still clenched, I relax it as I speak. ‘Oh, I was
expecting … somebody else. How – how did you know where to find
me?’

Antonio smiles like I’ve said something funny. ‘I looked you up in
the ship’s database. I got the wrong cabin first though, that was
interesting.’

I’m looking at her hair again. It’s long, smooth and silky where as
mine is short, towel dried and frayed. She’s still smiling too. Somehow
she looks, I don’t know, sunny.

‘I wanted to say,’ Antonio continues, ‘thank you for saving my life.’
‘Oh, it was nothing. You probably saved mine a few moments before
so thank you as well.’
She smiles appreciatively. ‘How are you feeling about, y’know, what
happened to him ?’
I remember stooping over, trying not to be sick in my helmet. I
remember pulling the trigger. I can’t meet Antonio’s eyes as I speak.
‘I’ll be okay …’
‘Actually,’ Antonio says, after a moment of silence, ‘I was
wondering, me and a couple of friends, other tech apprentices, we
always go to the bar at 1800 on a Thursday. Why don’t you meet us
there?’
My first thought is that I’d be terrible company. Everything that’s
happened, the state I’m in, how could I possibly be all laughs?
Antonio must sense my reserve. ‘I don’t entirely feel like going
either,’ she says softly, ‘but I know it would be a good thing to do. And
we usually have fun.’

Ten minutes ago, if you’d have told me I’d be agreeing to go to a bar
I would have called you ridiculous. But somehow Antonio has swayed
me. ‘Okay,’ I say ridiculously, ‘I’m usually off-shift by then.’

‘Great, I guess I’ll see you at 1800.’
‘Yeah, and – well – thanks for checking up on me, Antonio.’
‘Call me Abril,’ she says, as she goes.
‘Okay,’ I reply, ‘call me Seren.’ But I don’t know if she hears.
Once Abril’s gone I close my door and finish tidying my room. It
doesn’t take long and my thoughts soon drift back to my dream and
then to home. I need another distraction, I need to go to work,
everything is still too fresh in my head.
On my way to shift more suspicious glances from crewmembers. I
stare down anyone who dares look at me as I go, just for something to
do.
I enter the briefing room to find Bakalar talking to the boys; looks
like I’ve crashed a brief. ‘Temples,’ Bakalar says, ‘take a seat, I’ve only
just started.’
I cross the room and sit myself next to Phyleon. Everyone except
Phyleon himself watches me do it, no doubt checking to see what sort
of state I’m in.
‘I was just explaining that I’ve talked with Captain Zuma,’ Bakalar
says, ‘and that Göhr aren’t giving us a revised docking clearance. They
say they can’t spare a ship to deal with the Scylla so they won’t admit us
until we’ve taken care of her.’
‘What do they want us to do?’ Hindle asks.
‘Recover, log and stow all bodies, personal effects and drives. We’re
to document everything we do in accordance with Relay regulation. On
top of that, Captain Zuma is still refusing to dock with the Scylla . The
work will need to be carried out through repeated shuttle trips.’
‘What?’ Artis exclaims. ‘That’ll turn the job from taking hours to
taking days.’
‘Three days, if my estimate is correct,’ Bakalar says.
I’m feeling queasy. I’m not sure I could spend another minute
aboard that ship, let alone three days. Bakalar saves me. ‘Hindle, Artis,
Phyleon, you’ll carry out the recovery. You’ll have to take a doctor
aboard with you to officially pronounce the crew as deceased, that will
give you an extra pair of hands. You know the drill, a full forensic

report. And don’t forget to log every shuttle transit with the Bridge
through comms. Dr Yanus Berg is on standby to meet you at Shuttle
Port 1 once you’re prepped.’ She looks at me. ‘Temples, my office.’

As the boys raise themselves and trudge towards the storage
lockers, I follow Bakalar through the hatchway.

‘Tell me the truth, Seren,’ Bakalar says, once we’re both sitting
down, ‘how are you feeling?’

‘Fine,’ I lie. ‘I think I just need to get back to work.’
Bakalar says nothing, I’m not sure she believes me.
‘Why won’t Captain Zuma dock with the Scylla ?’ I ask, trying to
change the subject. ‘I always thought he was worried about who might
come through the airlock if we docked, but now—’
‘The captain didn’t like the look of the patch we saw,’ Bakalar
interrupts. ‘He doesn’t want to risk it blowing whilst we’re attached.
Now, are you sure you’re okay to work today? There’s no shame in
taking a break after what happened.’
‘I’m fine, I want to work.’
Bakalar stares right through me. Just as I’m sure she’s about to send
me back to my cabin she says, ‘You and I are going to pick up the
malfunction investigation like Captain Zuma wanted. However, I’m
almost certain that the Charybdis ’s malfunctions and what happened
to the Scylla are linked, so we’re going to start by visiting the med
technician that Captain Zuma sent the frozen blood to. She sent me a
message saying she’s finished her analysis and wants to speak in
person about the results.’
I nod, that sounds promising. ‘And what about the Scylla ’s memory
banks and the crew’s DNA? Has anything come of that?’
‘Nothing from the banks as of yet. As for the DNA, no matches save
for a couple of low ranking spacers registered to Ki and Tinker .’
‘Is that normal? I thought everyone who travelled through the Relay
had to surrender a DNA sample?’
‘The Scylla was an Earth envoy ship. High-ranking earthlings
sometimes have the power to strike their DNA from Relay records and
hence our database.’
I take a deep breath. ‘Was there a match for the man with the rifle?’
‘No, there wasn’t.’ I flex my fingers. I’m not sure if not knowing who
it was I killed makes it easier or harder.

‘Come on,’ Bakalar says, standing from her desk, ‘let’s get to
Medical.’

I follow Bakalar out of the hatchway to find Artis and Phyleon gone,
Hindle working the holo board. Almost as soon as Bakalar shuts the
hatch door there’s a muffled beep. She reaches into her pocket and
pulls out her hand tablet. ‘I need to get back to my computer for a
moment, wait here.’

With nothing to do I make my way over to Hindle; I really don’t
want to be left alone with my thoughts.

‘How’re you doing, Temples?’ he says, navigating the board’s
interface.

Up close I notice the black eye he picked up during the radiation
alarm is starting to fade. ‘Okay, thanks. What are you up to?’

‘About to prep the suits. Just trying to find Dr Yanus Berg on the
ship’s maze of a database, get his height and weight so I know roughly
what I’m dealing with.’ He points to the screen. ‘Ah, there he is.’

The holoboard is a list of names in alphabetical order, the final three
in view: Baey, T., Beck, A. and Berg, Y . Hindle selects Berg, Y. bringing
up a cabin number and workstation location. There’s a separate folder
marked Particulars which he has to enter an access code for. ‘This sort
of thing used to be a heck of a lot easier aboard the Appulse, ’ he
mumbles as he goes.

‘The Appulse ?’ I enquire.
‘It was a cargo ship we used to take up a lot of contracts with. Had a
tiny crew compared to the Charybdis .’
‘Aren’t cargo ships huge?’
‘Twenty times the size of the Charybdis ,’ Hindle answers. ‘But
they’re ninety-nine percent hold and engine with not much more than
a tin can attached for the crew.’
He turns away from the holoboard and looks me in the eye. ‘Look,
Temples, early on, things got pretty hairy aboard the Appulse . Despite
all my training I didn’t deal with it well, not nearly as well as you
handled the Scylla . Bakalar could easily have tossed me aside, hired
someone else, someone better. But she didn’t, she helped me through
it. Stick with her, listen to what she says and you’ll be fine. You’re
stronger than you know, I’ve seen it.’
Bakalar comes back through the hatch before I can reply. ‘Clyne has

come through for us,’ she announces.
I recognise the name. ‘The flight apprentice from the Bridge?’
‘Yes. Apparently Petrova was struggling to get anything from the

Scylla ’s memory banks so Clyne tried during his own time. He
managed to recover some video, security footage he thinks was
recorded over the last few weeks. No sound but there’s functional
picture clarity. He’s just sent it to my interface.’

‘Sounds like we might finally find out what happened over there,’
Hindle says.

‘Are you going to look through the footage now?’ I ask.
‘No, not now, when we get back. First, the blood.’

Thirteen

The Med Wing is in First, not far from the Observatory. It’s the first
time I’ve been here since the examination I was obliged to take when I
came aboard from Gunnell . The place still has that same sterile smell I
remember, less free beds though.

‘I’m here to see Ye-eun Tak,’ Bakalar says to a woman typing at the
terminal by the entrance.

‘Through the big door at the end of the ward,’ she says, without
looking up. ‘I think she’s in Observation 4. If you see signs for theatre
you’ve gone too far.’

‘Got it, thank you.’
I follow Bakalar through the ward, stealing glances at the patients in
their beds as we go. Most have bandaged limbs or fingers and a couple
of them look at us expectantly as we pass. Are they hoping we’re
doctors?
We pass through the big door to find a long, familiar corridor
peppered with more big doors. On the left, doors marked Dispensary ,
High Dependency Ward and numbered Sickroom s. On the right,
Observation 1, 2 (I seem to remember my medical was in there) , 3, and
finally, 4 .
Inside a woman hovers over a terminal, a hand tablet to her ear.
Out of nowhere, I feel a pang of annoyance at the captain for supplying
our entire security team with no more than two operational hand
tablets. Even I had my own on Earth. No, I can’t think about home, or
my dream, I need to focus.
‘Okay, got to go, thanks,’ the woman says, before pocketing her
tablet. She steps away from her terminal, towards where we stand.
‘Sorry, it’s mad here just now. A coolant pipe blew out in Engineering
twenty minutes ago and we’re inundated with cold burns.’
‘Any of them serious?’ Bakalar asks.
‘One. He’s in theatre right now, it’s not looking good.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. Would you like me to contact the captain,
ask him to re-task the doctor my team have on standby?’
‘No, it’s okay, we’ll manage. The on call-ers will be here in a
minute.’ She looks at me. ‘Who’s this?’
‘Temples,’ I answer, ‘security apprentice.’

‘Tak, medical technician. It’s nice to meet you, Temples. Anyway,’
she says to Bakalar, ‘sorry to make you come down here, but, on top of
everything else, we’ve been having trouble with our computer system.
I didn’t want any information I put in an internal going astray and
getting out without yours or the captain’s say so.’

‘Understandable,’ Bakalar tells her. ‘What did you find out?’
‘Come and see for yourself,’ she answers, heading back towards her
terminal and gesturing for us to follow.
Observation 4 is small and so, as Bakalar and Tak stand in front of
the holo screen, I have to peer around their shoulders from beside a
tiny bed.
Tak swipes aside the interface she was apparently using before we
turned up, navigates a couple of menus and brings up a document full
of charts, lists and tables. I see a few words I recognise: Serum ,
Haemoglobin and Glucose , but I can’t hope to understand the
document completely.
‘What are we looking at?’ Bakalar asks, apparently just as lost.
‘A full analysis of the blood from the vial. Well, as full as we’re able
to do aboard the Charybdis . Most of this reads as normal, healthy
human blood; glucose levels, platelet count, but look at this.’ She
points to the bottom of the interface. I can just about read, Blood Type:
Inconclusive .
‘Some sort of error?’ Bakalar asks.
‘That’s what I thought, so I ran two more samples from the vial and
got the same inconclusive result both times. I’ve been a med tech for
fifteen years and I’ve never come across an inconclusive blood type
before.’
‘So what does that mean exactly?’
‘Well, I wasn’t sure so I tried a different test. I put the blood
through the DNA fast sequencer and it wouldn’t run. I got a non-
human error result.’
‘But you just said that the vial contained normal human blood?’
Tak nods. ‘It seemed to but, at a genetic level, the blood is reading
as non-human.’ She closes the document. ‘You should know that our
fast sequencer is essentially a relic, it has a limited range and can’t
handle anything outside of what would be considered as a normal
human. I think the most likely explanation for the inconclusive is that

the blood you found is from a genetically modified human, altered to
such an extent that our haggard old sequencer can’t work with it.’

‘Human GM,’ I say, from beside my bed, ‘isn’t that illegal?’
‘Depends on the reason for modification,’ Tak answers, ‘the extent of
the changes and a number of other considerations. If we had a better
sequencer we’d be able to find out exactly what had been done to the
blood’s donor and make a guess at why. I can probably find out more
once we get to Göhr .’
‘Could we not send Göhr your results now?’ Bakalar asks. ‘Get them
to do an in-depth analysis and send a data packet back?’
‘What results I have aren’t enough for them to work from. They’d
need to physically run the blood themselves. Göhr will no doubt have a
much better sequencer than we do.’
‘Based on what you have,’ Bakalar presses, ‘could you at least
speculate as to what might have been done to the donor of the blood?’
Tak shakes her head. ‘I’m sorry, but without proper sequencer
results I’m completely in the dark. I can do more when we get to Göhr ,
but, for now …’
‘Of course,’ Bakalar accepts, although I can hear defeat in her voice.
‘Thank you for your time, Tak.’
Neither of us speaks during the walk back to Third. Bakalar rarely
gives much away but I can tell she’s disappointed. I’m pretty sure she
was hoping the blood would offer up a solid lead.
We find the briefing room empty. At a guess, the boys are off
loading equipment into their shuttle. ‘You’ll be assisting me for the
rest of the day, Seren,’ Bakalar says, as I close the door behind us,
‘we’ll be working in my office.’
Once we’re through the hatchway, Bakalar has me retrieve an old
holotop from one of her office lockers and set it up at the end of her
desk. ‘I want you to research human genetic modification,’ she
instructs. ‘Find out everything you can and write me up a report by the
end of the day. I’m going to have a look through the security footage
from the Scylla .’
I can’t help but notice that Bakalar has made me set up my
workspace where I won’t be able to see her holo screen. I don’t know if
I’m annoyed or relieved. The footage might be enlightening to watch,
but what if the rifleman makes an appearance? What if it somehow

reveals him as a good person? No, he tried to kill me. I shouldn’t be
thinking about him. I shouldn’t be thinking about him, or home, or my
dream, or anything but work.

I load up the ship’s database and try to concentrate. The database
isn’t as useful as an Earth internet connection, or even an outlying
space station’s internal network, but there’s bound to be some stuff on
there about GM. And a quick search shows me that there is. Pages of it.

I start my report by outlining how human genetic modification is
undertaken: usually by employing a modified virus to insert new genes
into a host or by inserting DNA into a target cell with a tiny syringe.

Then I move on to controversies, law, designer humans, as I’m
writing a section on using GM to prevent illness Bakalar gets a call
through her hand tablet.

‘Bakalar,’ she answers. I strain to hear the voice on the other end. It
sounds like Artis but I can’t hear any of what he’s saying.

‘That’s fine,’ she’s says, ‘contact me if there are any problems.’ She
ends the call and looks my way. ‘The boys are about to leave for the
Scylla ,’ she says by way of explanation, then she goes back to her
screen. I do the same.

I spend hours writing a detailed report for Bakalar, only pausing to
go and pick us up some food. I’m particularly proud of my section on
the insertion of advantageous animal genes into human DNA,
something the database seems to have lots of information on. I see the
use of gene therapy to change the way someone looks as less important
and my report reflects that.

‘I’ve finished the report,’ I say, sometime around 1700. ‘I’ve sent it
to your workstation.’

Bakalar looks up from her screen. ‘Thank you, Seren. I’ll read
through it soon.’

‘How’s the footage looking?’ I ask, before I can stop myself. Bakalar
hasn’t mentioned it since I started my report. In fact, she’s scarcely
spoken a word to me since Lunch.

‘In short, it’s a mess. Hopefully I’ll have more to tell you tomorrow.
Why don’t you go back to your cabin and get some rest?’ Despite the
way it’s phrased, I know it’s a dismissal and not a suggestion.

I stow the holotop, say goodnight and leave.
As I walk back to Fourth my thoughts drift back to the rifleman, to

Earth and my dream. I hate this. I left home to get away from what
happened, from what I saw, but now it’s clearer than ever. As soon as I
allow my mind to wander everything comes back to torment me, to
poison my thoughts. But this is only a day after I pulled the trigger.
Surely it won’t be like this forever? I find myself glad Abril invited me
out for the evening. An hour alone with my thoughts is going to be
torment enough.

I sip my juice and look to the door. Still no sign of Abril, has she
forgotten? Maybe she was just held up on-shift. I’m sure she’ll be here
in a minute.

I turn in my seat and do a visual sweep of the bar. It’s emptier than
it was the last time I was here, but it’s slowly filling up. I notice two
men in overalls carrying a couple of beers to a table three behind mine.

‘… miss my next start date at this rate,’ one of them complains, just
within earshot, ‘they’ll probably call it breach of contract and dock my
pay.’

‘If we even make it to Göhr ,’ the other man replies. ‘You heard
they’re bringing half-rotten corpses over from that Terrestrial ship
now? Probably full of earthling diseases that’ll kill us all.’ I shrink into
my seat, they’re talking about Security.

‘Yeah, that Terrestrial-loving Security bitch has Zuma right under
her thumb. I hear he does whatever the hell she says.’

‘She must be fucking him,’ the first guy replies, laughing.
I’m about to stand up and leave when Abril steps through the door,
a girl and boy about my age just behind her. She smiles as she sees me,
then leads her friends over to my table.
‘Hey, Seren,’ she says brightly, ‘I’m so glad to see you.’
‘Same to you,’ I reply, smiling despite everything, ‘thank you for
inviting me.’ Perhaps a little formal but no one seems to notice.
‘I’m Lucie,’ the other girl says, as her, Abril and the boy sit at my
table, ‘and this is Arjun. He’s the reason we’re late.’
‘The reason we’re late,’ Arjun protests, ‘is because Lucie IM’d me the
wrong time. When these two rocked up at my cabin I was still in the
shower. And everyone calls me Arj by the way, I hate the un part.’ He
gives me a winning smile.
‘Either way,’ Abril cuts in, ‘sorry we’re late. Have you been waiting

long?’
I shake my head. ‘Only long enough to get a drink, I really don’t

mind.’
‘In that case,’ Lucie says, ‘I’ll admit that I did IM Arj the wrong

time.’ She giggles and pulls a guilty face. She’s pretty. Long brown hair
and smooth, pale skin.

‘Is it true that you earthlings call us spaceroaches?’ Arjun asks out
of nowhere.

‘Gods, Arj,’ Lucie exclaims, throwing her hands in the air. ‘That was
what, twenty seconds before you said something moronic?’

‘It’s okay,’ Arj answers, ‘I’m only curious. Seren doesn’t mind, do
you, Seren?’

In truth, I do mind, but not for the reason anyone thinks. The two
guys drinking behind us, I really don’t want them knowing I’m from
Earth. ‘Not at all,’ I answer, relieved by the idle chitchat I can still hear
from their table. ‘You get some idiots throwing that term around, but I
never would.’

‘You get idiots out in the Relay too,’ Abril says. ‘They come up with
all sorts of dumb names for earthlings. It’s ignorant. In the end, we’re
all human beings.’

‘I’m not sure Arj is human,’ Lucie says, ‘he certainly doesn’t know
how to interact with other humans if he is. In fact, as reward for his
little outburst I say first round’s on him. A pint of beer, please, Arj.’

‘Same here,’ Abril adds.
‘Fine,’ Arjun says, with theatrical exasperation. ‘What are you
drinking, Seren?’
‘Just juice. But I have plenty left, thanks.’
‘That crap isn’t juice,’ Arjun says, ‘it’s fluorescent water pumped full
of artificial sweeteners. Four beers coming up.’ He’s gone before I have
a chance to protest.
‘Sorry about Arj,’ Lucie says, once he’s gone. ‘He was born on
Thanou . They farm and eat beetles there, short-circuits their brains.’
I laugh. ‘No harm done.’ And it’s true, I have to put up with ten
times worse from Artis on a daily basis.
‘Arj can be a bit dense sometimes,’ Abril says, ‘but he has a good
heart.’
‘Anyway,’ Lucie says, leaning forwards, ‘ever since Abril said you

were meeting us, I’ve been dying to ask you about this super-secret
mission you both went on. Abril says she absolutely can’t speak about
it, but surely you can tell me something ?’

I try not to let my reservation show but this really isn’t what I came
here to talk about. Abril looks worried too. ‘Abril was just assisting
Security with some high-tech equipment,’ I answer. ‘She was a great
help, I scarcely know which end of a box tablet is which.’

‘Actually,’ Abril says, ‘box tablets aren’t really that high-tech. There’s
much better stuff out there, the box tablets we have aboard the
Charybdis aren’t even wireless.’

‘Urgh, tell me about it,’ Lucie says. ‘Everything aboard this ship is so
ancient. Even Yosef had BT’s that could sort through code wirelessly
and automatically. It’s like we’re living in the Dark Ages aboard this
pile of junk.’

Abril smiles at me. I smile back, grateful she steered Lucie away
from talking about the mission.

‘Complaining that you actually have to do work again,’ Arjun says,
placing a tray of beer glasses on the table. ‘If the ship had all the latest
gear there’d be no jobs for lowly tech apprentices like us.’

‘At least then I wouldn’t have to spend so much time with you, Arj.
Now pass me my beer.’

We start drinking and the conversation flows easily. Mostly we
discuss the useless tech aboard the ship. Even I’ve noticed that the
tablets they have here aren’t up to much. The pre-owned hand tablet I
had on Earth was better and more powerful than the ones they use
aboard the Charybdis , better even than the personal tablet I bought
aboard Bolt . I don’t say as much though, the last thing I want to do is
bring up Earth.

‘What we really need,’ Arjun declares, somewhere into our third
round, ‘is implant tech.’

‘Not this again,’ Lucie groans.
‘You really want a computer inside you?’ Abril asks. ‘Slowly
corroding until you have to have it surgically removed?’
‘Have it surgically what now?’ Arjun responds. The bar has filled to
the brim since we started on the beer, it’s getting harder and harder to
hear anything through the clamour.
‘Right,’ Abril says loudly, ‘drink up everyone, we’re going back to

my cabin. I can hardly hear myself think in here.’
I knock back the dregs of my pint and then stand with the others.

‘You’re coming, right?’ Abril asks me directly, as Lucie and Arjun head
for the door.

Maybe after everything that’s happened I shouldn’t. I’m on-shift
tomorrow morning as well, but then it’s not that late yet. The last thing
I want to have to do is go back to my room and be alone with my
thoughts. ‘Lead the way,’ I say, before I have a chance to change my
mind.

Fourteen

As soon as we leave the bar the tumult dies down and it’s much easier
to hear what Abril and her friends are saying.

‘Follow me,’ Arjun says, ‘I know a shortcut.’
Lucie rolls her eyes. ‘This should be good.’
‘I’m a sixth generation spacer,’ Arjun declares as he sets off, ‘you
should trust in my outstanding instincts.’
‘Sixth generation?’ I say a bit too loudly, possibly because of the
beer. ‘I didn’t know the Relay went that far back.’
‘Really?’ Abril asks, as we all follow after Arjun. ‘Didn’t you learn
Relay history in Earth school?’
‘No, they didn’t teach it. Although I didn’t really go to the best
school.’
‘Are you interested? My school on Tinker force fed me Relay history
once a week. I could fill you in on the basics?’
‘Absolutely,’ I answer, anxious at how backwards I must seem to
spacers for being so clueless.
‘Well,’ Abril begins, ‘it all started with the Great World Famine. I’m
sure you know this part better than me but, when Earth’s population
passed thirteen billion, the pressure on agriculture and infrastructure
was so severe that massive food shortages hit every continent. There
was great pressure on governments to act so they all signed a treaty
called, er—’
‘The Statute of Wider Reach,’ Lucie puts in.
‘That’s it,’ Abril says. ‘They all signed the Statute of Wider Reach
and pledged to set up new habitations in the Solar System. There were
already some space stations and space outposts of course, but they
were small and not even close to self-sufficient. These new giant space
stations were going to grow all of their own food, mine the Solar
System for their raw materials and even provide Earth with extra
resources.
‘Millions of people signed up to move out into space but it was still
twenty years and widespread famine before the first station was
finished. All the near-Earth orbit stations were built first; Ongori ,
Hayes , Ki , Trouball and finally Delecour . Then came the Martian and

Venusian stations which created the Relay Between Planets. Next the
stations around Ceres and Jupiter’s moons were built, and then Göhr in
orbit around Saturn’s moon, Dione. That formed the Anchor Leg
which is, of course, where we are now.

‘Millions of people leaving Earth eased pressure on the planet’s
infrastructure, but it’s said that the real difference came with the
Martian stations and Gunnell in the asteroid belt. Their mining
operations provided Earth with the extra resources it needed to correct
its infrastructure. The next step is the terraforming of Mars which is
well under way. Then spacers will have a home planet linked to Earth
by the Relay.’

‘Wow,’ I say, as Abril finishes, ‘you do know Relay history well.’ I
don’t mention my thoughts on Earth’s infrastructure. In my
experience it’s far from corrected.

‘Yeah, well relayed, Abril,’ Lucie says. ‘You only missed one thing.’
‘Really? What?’
‘The part about Thanou giving birth to the biggest idiot humanity has
ever known. Arjun, where the heck are we?’
As Arjun frowns I realise I have no idea where we are either. I’m not
even sure this is still Fourth. ‘Erm, sorry, ladies, but I think I might
have taken a wrong turn.’
‘Everything about you is wrong,’ Lucie complains.
‘It’s okay,’ Abril says with a laugh, ‘this is the backend of
Maintenance. If we turn back we can get to my cabin through Exercise
in no time. Come on.’
True to her word, Abril has us at her cabin door in less than five
minutes. A finger to the ad-pad and we’re all following her inside.
‘Sorry about the mess,’ she says, ‘but, well, insert generic excuse
here.’
Abril’s cabin is nowhere near as messy as mine was this morning. In
fact, it’s better than my cabin in almost every other way too. My walls
are plain but Abril has stuck up giant posters of famous bands and
singers, bright summer dresses hang over a pair of speakers and a
framed photo of Mars sits over her bed. I dread to think what she must
have thought of my sparse cabin when she saw it through my doorway.
Maybe I got lucky and she didn’t notice.
‘Is this the slip dress you told me about?’ Lucie asks, rushing over to

the little patterned number hanging from Abril’s bathroom door. ‘The
one you bought from that engineer?’

‘Yep. Pretty, right?’
‘Gorgeous,’ Lucie replies, ‘and so soft.’
‘Want to try it on?’
‘Absolutely.’ Lucie all but tears the dress away from the doorframe
and disappears into the bathroom.
‘And whilst Lucie slips into something more comfortable,’ Abril says
mischievously, kicking a crumpled jumpsuit out of the way and
reaching under her bed, ‘we can get started on this.’ She pulls out an
unmarked bottle filled with a clear liquid I assume isn’t water.
‘Moonshine,’ Arjun says, beaming.
‘Yep, only the best at Chez Antonio.’ She passes me the bottle. ‘Have
you ever tried moonshine before, Seren?’
I shake my head. ‘No, never. What is it?’
‘It’s a distilled spirit the craft engineers make and sell on the sly. It’s
not exactly fine wine, but it does the job.’
I take the bottle from her, unscrew the lid and knock back a
mouthful. I cough as my throat begins to burn. ‘Wow,’ I gasp, passing
the bottle back to Abril, ‘it’s strong.’
Abril chuckles, takes a swig and then passes the bottle to Arjun. ‘It
actually gets a lot worse than that,’ she tells me, without so much as a
splutter, ‘the crafties keep the strongest stuff for themselves.’
As Arjun takes his turn, Lucie emerges from the bathroom. Her
worn apprentice jumpsuit has gone and she’s wearing Abril’s silky slip
dress.
‘You look stunning,’ Abril says, as Lucie does a twirl. In truth, and
with Abril being somewhat curvier than Lucie, the dress is a little big
for her. It doesn’t take away from her figure though, or stop Arjun
gawking for that matter.
‘Feels so nice to wear something pretty,’ Lucie says, as she joins us
beside Abril’s bed. ‘This stupid always dress in uniform outside of
your quarters rule, I hate it. I can’t wait until I’m back aboard a station
and free to leave my cabin wearing actual clothes.’
‘We’re allowed to wear sportswear on the way to Exercise,’ Arjun
qualifies, holding out the moonshine for Lucie.
‘Shut up, Arj.’ Maybe Lucie still hasn’t forgiven Arjun for his

shortcut mishap. She takes the bottle from him all the same.
‘I’m afraid it’s floor space only at Chez Antonio,’ Abril says, sinking

down against her bed. There are no complaints. We all follow her
down and go through another round of moonshine.

‘So,’ Arjun says, after a monster gulp, ‘what’s the deal with this
security apprentice thing?’

‘How do you mean?’
‘Well, is it the same as being a tech apprentice? Do you train for two
years and then qualify? Start looking for jobs?’
‘Yeah, two years to qualify,’ I say. I’m not so sure about the next
part. I’d assumed that Bakalar would give me a fully-fledged place on
her team after my training, but from the way Arjun is speaking that
doesn’t sound like the certainty I thought it was. ‘After that I’ll just
have to see.’
Arjun nods. ‘It’s weird not knowing where you’ll end up, but I guess
you just have to keep an open mind and take whatever work comes
your way.’
‘I hear finding a proper contract is much harder than getting an
apprenticeship,’ Abril says, taking the bottle from Arjun. ‘Heads like
apprentices because they can pay us so little. Once you’re qualified you
cost more.’
‘I can’t imagine Idyllwild ever handing me a proper paycheque,’
Lucie says. ‘Just one more reason to leave this pile of junk as soon as
possible.’
I recognise the name. I’m pretty sure Idyllwild is the guy who
escorted Abril over to Security before the mission. ‘So where would
you work if you could pick anywhere you liked?’ I ask Lucie, the drink
just starting to slur my words. ‘A space station?’
She nods. ‘I think so. I’ve heard Stecher and Bakre offer decent long-
term tech contracts if you can get them. All that Jupiter radiation plays
havoc with their systems so they need lots of us.’
Abril passes me the bottle as Arjun says, ‘All this work so we can
save up for fifty years and afford a box-sized retirement apartment in
one of the near-Earth stations.’
Abril laughs. ‘You never know, we might get lucky and go insane
before then. Get taken in by some residential wing nice and early.’
‘Gods,’ Lucie says, ‘give me another drink if that’s all I’ve got to look

forward to.’
I pass Lucie the bottle and she knocks back a quarter of what’s left.

‘Put some music on Abril, I fancy a dance.’
Abril claps her hands together and says, ‘Play Nirvana, Smells Like

Teen Spirit.’
A second later and the music kicks in, light guitar chords at first and

then thumping drums and heavy riffs.
‘Is this song in honour of Seren?’ Arjun asks, as we watch Lucie

dance, twirl and head bang.
Abril nods.
‘Come and dance with me, you big idiot,’ Lucie calls to Arjun. He

doesn’t need telling twice, he’s up and keeping time with Lucie in a
flash.

‘In honour of me?’ I ask Abril.
‘Yeah,’ she answers with a blush. ‘Nirvana, Earth’s principal grunge-
era band. Do you like them?’
‘I don’t know them,’ I have to admit.
‘Really? But what about all the news coverage when archival
forensics proved that Kurt Cobain was murdered by—’
‘Next song,’ Lucie interrupts, ‘bored of this one.’
‘Playlist 9,’ Abril commands with a clap, kick-starting some poppy
Relay rock anthem I do recognise.
I pick up the bottle from where Lucie left it and take another swig.
I’m enjoying the buzz and I don’t want to sober up and let any dark
thoughts overtake me.
‘It’s not bad stuff is it?’ Abril says.
‘Nope, and the more I drink the less it burns.’
Abril laughs and reaches for the bottle herself.
‘So, what about you?’ I say, as she drinks. ‘Do you have any idea of
where you’d like to end up after your apprenticeship?’
‘I’m not sure really. As long as it’s somewhere I can finish my flight
training then I’ll be happy.’
‘You can pilot?’ I ask excitedly. ‘Was that Mars photo taken on one
of your flights?’
Abril shakes her head. ‘No, my mum bought that on Tinker . A kind
of don’t forget your roots gift when I left for the Charybdis . I haven’t
actually flown properly yet, it’s all been in a simulator. I’ve clocked up

fifty-one sim hours though.’
‘That’s still great, Abril. Where would you need to go to finish your

training?’
‘Most outlying space stations have flight simulators and training

crafts, so I’ll probably apply for work aboard one of those.’ She looks
longingly at the picture of Mars above her bed. ‘It’s stupid really, but
it’s kind of my dream to do a flyby of every planet in the Solar System.
See them all with my own eyes, no need for scopes or lenses.’

‘That’s not stupid at all,’ I say.
Abril gives me a sweet smile. Then her smile turns into a grin and
she points a sly finger over my shoulder.
I turn to see Lucie and Arjun dancing in each other’s arms, swaying
to the beat of a slow song I don’t know. After a few bars, Arjun leans in
to kiss her but Lucie notices us watching. She gives Arjun a colossal
slap across his cheek.
‘Ow,’ Arjun exclaims, massaging his face, ‘love hurts.’
Lucie storms away from him and sits down next to Abril. ‘Sorry to
have to do that in your cabin, Abril, but it seems Arj can’t handle his
drink.’
We all laugh but somehow I suspect Lucie’s reaction might have
been different if she hadn’t spotted us watching.
‘Are you going to behave, Arj?’ Lucie asks, as Arjun comes back to
sit with us.
‘I’ll be good,’ he says with a dopey smile, ‘now pass me the
moonshine.’
We talk and drink and laugh some more but, before long, I find
myself flagging.
There’s still loud music, and I’m a guest in someone else’s cabin,
but, leaning against the bed, I can’t resist ducking out of the
conversation and resting my eyes. Just for a moment.

Fifteen

My head pounds as I hurry through Fourth. I woke in Abril’s bed five
minutes before shift and only had time to knock back some
paracetamol, change into one of Abril’s jumpsuits, quickly say
goodbye. Lucie and Arjun didn’t stay but apparently I was so drunk
that Abril decided to let me sleep in her bed (not that I can remember
being hoisted in there). Abril took a spare blanket and the cold, hard
floor. I feel terrible for imposing on her, but worse than that, sobriety
has brought back thoughts of home and what I’ve done. I’m a killer,
I’m just like them.

I enter the briefing room to find it empty save for Artis. He’s
standing at his locker, stuffing something inside. I have a personal
locker too but, stupidly, I never use it. If I had any sense I’d have
stowed a spare jumpsuit in there. Then I wouldn’t have had to borrow
one of Abril’s.

‘Morning,’ I say wearily.
Artis turns and gives me a once over. ‘You look like shit. And you’ve
shrunk, that jumpsuit is hanging off you.’
I could easily fire something back, Artis looks terrible too. His skin
is blotchy and his eyes are bloodshot. Has he been … crying?
‘Where’s Bakalar?’ I ask, instead of a rebuke. Maybe work aboard
the Scylla is going badly. Collecting and logging all of those half-rotten
corpses, for once Artis might deserve some slack.
‘Office,’ he grunts, ‘she’s waiting for you.’
He goes back to his locker and I head for the hatchway. I’m glad
Bakalar is in there, I want a job. Something to distract me from my
thoughts as soon as possible.
If Bakalar realises I’m a little late she doesn’t mention it. ‘Morning,
Seren, lots to do today. The boys are heading back to the Scylla and I’m
trawling through log code. I want you to look through Clyne’s video
footage.’
For a moment I think I’m going to faint. I’m not sure I’m ready to
revisit the Scylla , to see the man I killed perfectly alive, just waiting for
me to blow his brains out.
Bakalar must sense my reservation. ‘There are plenty of other

things to do if—’
‘No,’ I interrupt, despite myself, ‘I thought you watched the footage

yesterday is all.’
‘I did. But I wasn’t able to look through it as thoroughly as I would

have liked. I’ve been putting off going further back through the
Charybdis ’s log code for too long now. We still have nothing for
Captain Zuma on the external sensor malfunctions so I need to focus
on that.’

I nod. I know less than nothing about log code so putting me on the
video makes sense. ‘What’s the video like?’

‘There are only snatches of footage from a single camera,’ Bakalar
answers, ‘but it does seem to be in chronological order at least. From
what I was able to work out yesterday there was a mutiny aboard the
Scylla , some sort of captive situation, a fire and more besides. I
skipped a lot of the earlier, more passive footage but I want you to go
through it all. Construct a rough timeline detailing all that happened.
You did a good job with your genetic engineering document yesterday.
If you can, I’d like a full report on the video sent to me by the end of
the day.’

‘Shall I work on your holotop?’
‘Please. I’ll send you the video files.’
Once the holotop is set up at Bakalar’s desk I take a few slow
breaths, open the files and press play. The first thing I see is the Scylla
’s Bridge. It’s much larger than the Charybdis ’s and it’s dominated by
a huge window sealed by a giant shutter. A holo table sits in the centre
and the flanks are occupied by workstations and terminals. They make

the terminals here look like cardboard props from an ancient, 20 th
century sci-fi movie. The Bridge is smartly designed too. The
Charybdis looks like it was built by bolting together salvaged parts
from fifty mothballed ships. Probably because it was. But the Scylla ’s
Bridge has a clear, cohesive style. Every section of the space flows into
the next and the workstations, with their bucket seats and crisp blue
colouring, could almost be described as extravagant. The Bridge is
devoid of life though, and there’s no time code to tell me when this
footage was recorded. At a guess whilst the ship was docked but it’s
impossible to know for sure.

I watch the inactive Bridge for a minute or so and then the screen

pixilates. When a clear image finally returns the Bridge is occupied.
The captain stands in front of the biggest terminal, a tall, grey-haired
woman with a harsh face. I know she’s the captain because there’s a
gold circle and four golden stripes on her sleeve. It’s the insignia all
Earth captains bear. There are three other crewmembers too, all
immaculately dressed and working hard at their stations. None of
them are the rifleman.

I notice that the window is filled with stars and the view is in
motion. The Scylla certainly isn’t docked now but there’s nothing I can
see to identify whereabouts in the Relay the ship actually is. After a
few moments the captain closes her interface and walks across the
Bridge. She starts speaking to one of her crewmembers but with no
sound it’s impossible to tell what’s being said.

The screen pixilates again. This time there’s a brief storm of holo
static before an image returns. The picture that comes back is similar
to what I was just watching, but there are only two crewmembers at
their stations. Neither of them are doing anything exciting so I make a
start on my report. I begin by theorising that the footage begins with
the Scylla docked (possibly at Bolt where I first saw her), and then I
make a note of each person working aboard the Bridge. I record their
gender and appearance, their primary workstation, and I start a log of
any crew that visit the Bridge too.

I sit through another two hours of footage which seems to reveal
nothing more than the day to day business of a Bridge. I’m just
detailing a meeting around the holo table when the footage cuts
forward and my stomach churns. The rifleman. He appears on the
Bridge and I all but stop breathing. Seeing him alive, it’s as bad as I
feared. He’s not wearing a skinsuit, he’s in a smart grey jumpsuit. But I
know it’s him. His face is burned into my eyes.

The captain isn’t on duty so the rifleman walks up to the nearest
crewwoman, says something and smiles. He smiles, the man I killed
used to smile at people. He has a tablet in his right hand and he shows
it to the crewwoman. The crewwoman works the screen, points, says
something and then they both seem to chuckle. It’s all very amicable
but somehow I get the feeling that the rifleman isn’t particularly
senior, that he’s not really supposed to be on the Bridge.

Eventually, he walks off screen and I pause the video. I take a deep

breath and wait until the lump disappears from my throat. Then I
swipe to my other screen. On my report I start a new section entitled
Timeline of crewmember killed by S. Temples . It physically pains me
to type it.

Another half an hour of Bridge footage (the rifleman doesn’t make
another appearance, thankfully) takes me up to midday. ‘Would you
like me to get us some lunch?’ I ask Bakalar.

She looks up from her work. ‘That would be good, Seren. Thank
you.’

‘If you like, I could go to Mess 1 and resume my audio surveillance
of Maria Flesch. I could bring back our food afterwards?’

Bakalar shakes her head. ‘I don’t think so. I’d prefer you to come
back here and finish your report.’

I thought she’d say that. If Bakalar had wanted me back on Flesch
she would have sent me to Mess 1 yesterday. But I wanted to try. To
get to Mess 1 you have to pass by Tech. Last night at the bar, Abril
mentioned that she works in Tech 3. If I went to Mess 1 via Tech 3 I
might have been able to snatch a quick conversation with Abril. I want
to apologise properly for imposing. But it’s not just that, it’s, well, I’m
not sure. Maybe seeing the rifleman again has put me in dire need of a
friendly face.

Once I come back with lunch we eat at Bakalar’s desk. She tells me
that she still hasn’t found anything suspicious in the ship’s code and I
tell her how I’m going about constructing my report. Bakalar seems
happy enough with what I’m doing so after we’ve eaten I return to
work.

Another fifty minutes of mundane Bridge activity and something
begins to change. Frantic dashes between workstations, the captain
looking like she’s shouting. Something is going on and it’s got the
Bridge concerned. It doesn’t last long though, another static storm
interrupts the footage, the picture reforming after a few seconds.

The captain is dead. She lies in a pool of blood, her wide eyes
unblinking. There’s a rake of bullet holes along the Bridge’s right-hand
wall and three crewmembers are all kneeling by the holo table with
their hands tied above their heads. A woman with a rifle stands over
them, and a group of three men (one of whom I recognise from a
previous Bridge visit) huddle around the biggest terminal. None of

them are the rifleman and that surprises me. When Bakalar said
‘mutiny’ I felt sure the rifleman would be involved.

I watch the men discuss whatever it is they’re looking at on the
terminal and then the footage jumps forward. The captain’s body and
the captives are gone. The blood stains and bullet holes remain. Three
of the four people in the last sequence are present, the woman with her
rifle and the two men I didn’t recognise. They’re standing around the
holo table in heated debate. Red faces, fast, flailing hands. I wish I
could hear what they were saying.

I let the footage play out without hitting pause to update my report.
The argument goes on for nearly five minutes. Another skip forward,
another pixel storm and the Bridge is full of smoke. A fire, but I can’t
see any flames, it must be somewhere else. Apart from the smoke the
Bridge is empty, no, wait, I can just make out a floating tablet. Zero-G.
The carousel must have stopped rotating.

I watch for a few minutes longer and the smoke starts to thin. Just
when I’m thinking of skipping forward the woman from the last
sequence flies into view. She’s wearing a soot-stained jumpsuit and
she careers straight into a terminal. She does a good job of righting
herself with a neat twirl but, before she can kick off, a second person
soars into view. With his rifle, her rifle I think, he shoots her dead. The
rifleman halts himself against a wall, kicks off and disappears back the
way he came. I stare at the dead woman as her body floats through the
air. The rifleman killed her, I killed the rifleman.

A new view appears as seamlessly as a movie cut. The Bridge of
course, but with no smoke and no dead body. I see Skoll through the
window and the rifleman as he hangs in the air working at a terminal
with a torch. He’s wearing his skinsuit, no helmet. I force myself to
watch him for five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen. What’s he doing?

I pause the footage and load up the ship’s database. I remember
Phyleon working on the Scylla ’s schematics pre-mission so hopefully I
can access them too. It takes me a while but, eventually, I find them.
Another minute and I’m looking at a floorplan of the Bridge.
Navigation , Life Support , Holo Table , Comms . The rifleman is
working at the comms terminal. That throws me. If comms were
functioning then why didn’t the rifleman respond to any of the
Charybdis ’s transmissions? Was he ignoring us? Waiting for someone

else? Maybe he could only transmit, not receive.
I go back to the video and hit play. A minute after I do, another cut

to an empty Bridge. No sign of the rifleman and without his torchlight
only the stars light the room. I have to adjust the brightness and
resolution to see anything. Not that there’s much to see, just vacant
workstations. There’s almost an hour of this, so I take the time to catch
up on writing my report.

A handful of static storms later and the rifleman is back. The lump
in my throat comes back too. He floats just above the floor in the
corner of the room, his arms wrapped around himself. He’s rocking
back and forth like he’s what? In pain? Scared? Insane? It’s all I can do
to keep watching, but I do. I feel so sick, so guilty, but there’s anger in
me too, some of it directed at Bakalar for thinking I should see this.
Maybe she wasn’t sure the person she was watching was the rifleman,
maybe she needed me to confirm. I didn’t exactly leave his face intact
after all.

By the time I send Bakalar my report it’s much later than when I
finished yesterday. I say goodbye and don’t even bother to ask her
about the log code. I feel like I could cry at any moment and I certainly
don’t want to do it in front of Bakalar. But I don’t want to be alone
either. Abril. I could go to her cabin, say I came round to pick up my
dirty jumpsuit, to return hers.

I don’t know what I’m hoping will happen or how it might help, but
I can’t think of what else to do.

Sixteen

I knock on Abril’s door. Softly at first, but then harder when she
doesn’t answer.

‘Seren?’ she says when she finally opens up. And then, ‘Gods, what’s
the matter?’

Apparently my efforts to compose myself on the way over didn’t
work. ‘Had a bad day,’ I say, holding back a tear. ‘I just—’

‘Come inside,’ Abril insists, half-dragging me through the door.
Her room is tidier than it was before, but I spot the empty
moonshine bottle lying next to a pair of stompy boots. Looks like we
drank every drop last night.
‘Did something happen at work?’ Abril asks, drawing me over to her
bed and sitting me down.
‘Yes – no,’ I stutter. ‘I mean, it’s more than that. I’m sorry, I
shouldn’t have come, you don’t need me turning up like this after
you’ve been working all day.’ What was I thinking? I’ve known Abril
for three days and I think it’s okay to come over here in this state?
What’s wrong with me?
Abril squeezes my hand, I didn’t even know she was holding it. ‘I’m
glad you came, Seren, you shouldn’t be alone when you feel like this. Is
it something to do with what happened aboard the Scylla ?’
‘Not just that. It’s – I really should go.’
I’m about to stand but Abril doesn’t let go of my hand. ‘I don’t
pretend to know everything about you, Seren, but I do know one thing.
You saved my life and I’m grateful. Please, tell me what’s wrong.’
I look into Abril’s eyes but still I don’t talk; I can’t help but feel it’s
wrong to unload on her.
‘The only way to move past something,’ Abril says, ‘is to talk about
it. You can’t lock whatever’s wrong inside, let it fester. You need to let
it out, please.’
I don’t know if it’s her kindness, her manner or even her beautiful
green eyes but I begin to talk and don’t stop. ‘What they taught you
about Earth in school was wrong. It’s still overpopulated, even with
emigration to the Relay and with all the extra resources that spacers
provide. It’s so bad that, under the guise of making room for

conservation, agriculture and a thousand other lies, governments
started shepherding the poor into townships. When things got even
more constrained the very poorest were forced into township
subsectors. They’re compact, walled off and movement out of them is
restricted. They’re crowded, lacking in facilities and, frankly, slums in
all but name. Even in Eurasia, even in Britain.’

‘Did you live in one of these township subsectors?’ Abril asks.
‘Yes. I grew up in an orphanage. I never knew who my parents were
or why I was there, I couldn’t understand why people in different parts
of the township had it so much better. And they really did have it
better. They had freedom, but subsectorers had rules on everything
from how much we were allowed to eat, to what we could wear and
who we could talk to. Medicine was limited, especially antibiotics, all
because the rich didn’t want to risk antibacterial resistance by wasting
them on us.
‘The rich controlled everything, had the best of everything, just
wanted us to disappear. It was never explicitly stated of course, but we
knew. The constant flow of propaganda telling us that Earth’s
population needed to be controlled, the subsector one child policy,
financial incentives to leave for the Relay – they detested us, wanted
rid of us.’
‘Gods,’ Abril mutters.
‘We used to protest at the subsector gates,’ I continue. ‘Sing and cry
for our freedom and rights, for a fair slice of what the rich were
keeping for themselves. But it never ended well, there were guard
towers. Troopers used to throw tear gas at us, fire a few rubber bullets
or come down and break up our protests with drop shocks. Brutal
violence under the cover of thick smoke, it was beyond horrible.’ A tear
trickles down my cheek as I decide to keep the worst part to myself.
Abril doesn’t need to know about that .
‘It sounds a little like what happened aboard the Scylla ,’ Abril says
softly, ‘is that why you’re so upset?’
I nod. ‘It brought it all back. Not that you ever really forget a place
as wicked as where I’m from.’ I consider telling Abril about the
security footage too but I don’t think Bakalar would appreciate me
doing so.
Abril lets out a long sigh. ‘You hear stories, of course. But the

pictures I’ve seen of Earth, it always looked so good. So perfect.’
‘It’s far from perfect,’ I say, ‘it’s so bad that I applied to leave Earth

as soon as I was sixteen. As soon as I was approved I applied for every
Anchor Leg job I could find, the further out the better. According to
Relay law you need a job lined up before anyone can legally transport
you through the Relay, but no one wanted to hire me. And why would
they? Totally unqualified, poorly educated, nothing more than a
useless orphan girl from Earth. I was about to lose hope when I heard
from Bakalar. She accepted my Security Apprentice application and,
when she did, when I knew I could finally leave Earth, it was the best
day of my life. I have no idea why she chose me but I’m so grateful she
did.’ I realise I’m as close to smiling as I’ve been all day.

‘I’m glad Bakalar picked you,’ Abril says, staring straight into my
eyes. ‘I’m glad she picked you and brought you here.’

I hold her gaze and there’s a moment, a wonderful moment filled
with expectation, apprehension and promise. Abril leans in towards
me. I close my eyes and she kisses me, for a second I kiss her back.
Then I pull away.

‘I’m sorry,’ Abril says, as I stare at the floor. ‘I shouldn’t have – with
everything you’re going through, I shouldn’t—’

‘It’s not that,’ I say.
Abril hesitates. ‘Is it that you’ve never … with a girl?’
‘It’s something else,’ I answer. What I kept from Abril is still eating
me up inside. But I can’t tell her, I can’t bring myself to talk about it. I
look at her again. ‘Tell me about the pictures you mentioned, what did
you see on Earth that looked so perfect?’
Abril gives me a shy smile. ‘It was the ocean. So much blue, rising
and falling, sparkling like a thousand pearls. I used to dream of flying
over it in a shuttle, just above the surface so I could send up a spray of
water behind me. Then I thought I could land on a sandy beach, have a
picnic in the sun, a paddle in the sea. All the things you can’t do up
here. I’ve never seen it for myself, but I think I would love the ocean.’
I remember the necklace Abril was wearing when we first met. An
ammonite, an extinct creature that once inhabited Earth’s ancient
seas. ‘I saw the ocean once,’ I tell Abril, ‘from the window of the carrier
that took me away from Earth. I’ve never touched it though, never
paddled in it. I hope you get to one day.’

‘Thank you,’ Abril says, ‘I hope so too.’ Then, after a long pause, she
adds, ‘We never got a chance to dance last night did we?’

‘Last night I think I might have been too drunk to stand up, let
alone dance.’

Abril laughs, gestures towards the empty bottle. ‘That was my fault,
moonshine is nasty stuff.’ She claps her hands and says, ‘The Beach
Boys, shuffle play.’

Sweet harmonies fill the room as Abril pulls me to my feet. ‘This is
what I listen to when I think about the ocean, come on.’

It’s like when Abril invited me to the bar. If you’d have told me I’d
be dancing to classic rock and roll ten minutes ago I would never have
believed you. But dance I do. This girl, she does something to me.

I’m woken by a soft rumble. I’m in Abril’s bed, wrapped in her arms.
Apart from lots of cheesy moves and righteous disco shapes, nothing
happened last night. But waking in the same bed as Abril, I feel, I’m
not sure, something strong. I think I felt it when we kissed too. And
then I remember what I kept from her. The rifleman, my dream and
what I saw back home, it all comes back to me in a torrid flood.

Gently, so as not to disturb her, I slide out of Abril’s arms. She
mumbles something and turns over, not quite waking up. Leaving her
to sleep, I stand and tap the tablet on her bedside table. The lock
screen flashes up with the time. 0749. Damn, I’m nearly late for shift. I
move over to her drawers and open the one she keeps her jumpsuits
in. Three left, I hope she won’t mind me taking another one. I change
and leave.

Once I’m out I head through Fourth as fast as I can. I was angry at
Bakalar yesterday, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care if I disappoint
her by being late two days in a row. She’ll no doubt have a job for me
too, something to give my mind some focus.

As I go I realise I’m not the only one in a rush. I see a handful of
crew dashing this way and that, another apprentice almost bowls me
over as he races past me.

When I get to work the briefing room is empty. I knock on the hatch
and go through once I hear Bakalar’s shout.

Bakalar is sitting at her computer, typing furiously. ‘Did you feel it,
Seren?’

The question is unexpected. ‘Sorry? Feel what?’
‘The jolt,’ Bakalar answers, ‘about fifteen minutes ago.’
I remember the rumble that woke me up. ‘Yes, was it something
bad?’
‘It was the ship’s EN Drive. It just blew up.’