Office of Mercy (9781101606100) by Ariel Djanikian

seconds. The fibers will regenerate.”
    â€œI know,” Natasha assured him. “We practiced it lots of times in the Pretends.”
    Veronica strapped an airfilter to Natasha’s back and a small tracking device to her wrist.
    â€œReady for the helmet?” she asked.
    â€œYes.”
    Natasha tried her best to breathe evenly as the engineers screwed the helmet into the thin metal ring of the biosuit collar. For a moment she experienced a suffocating feeling, but then the air began to blow in from the filter tube. The air had a sharp, cool taste, with just a tinge of plastic.
    â€œOkay?” Lewis asked, his voice muffled in Natasha’s ears.
    Natasha gave a thumbs-up.
    They were all ready now, the members of the team; and they converged at the doors of the airlock. The engineers made a flurry of final adjustments to the six biosuits. They were nervous too, Natasha realized. If the biosuits did not perform as expected, it would be their years of work on the line.
    â€œWe’ll be watching every sensor we’ve got,” Arthur said. “If the Pines double back over the perimeter, we’ll give an emergency call for return. If that happens, you drop everything and come home as quickly as possible. Leave any tools if you have to. The most important thing is your safety.”
    â€œWe’ll be fine,” Douglas said. “You worry too much.”
    Eric smiled in nervous agreement, but Jeffrey was nodding.
    â€œGood luck,” Arthur said. “I’ll see you in seventeen hours.”
    They stepped into the airlock. Natasha took one last, long look at the room: Arthur’s heavy countenance, Lewis’s anxious expression, and the exhilarated faces of the engineers lined up in front of the metal racks of extra airfilters, clothing, radios, and imaging devices. Then, as Veronica raised one hand in farewell, the doors closed on the Inside.
    It was very quiet. The team was alone.
    â€œWe’ll just walk through the airlock on this end,” Jeffrey said. “The acid bath and UV lamps are only necessary coming the other way.”
    They passed into a second, white cube-shaped room, and then Jeffrey hit the control for the last set of doors.
    â€œHere we go,” Jeffrey said. “Take your last breath of settlement air.”
    They exited the airlock into a large but low-ceilinged storehouse lined with overstuffed shelves. On the walls hung at least fifty guns, all LUV-3s, and four electron saws that appeared untouched for decades. Boxes on the floor held everything from ammunition to plastic tubing, screwdrivers and metal parts for sensors. The space most closely resembled one of the storagerooms on level eight, except for one important fact: everything here was filthy. A fine coat of dust gave the entire room, even the floor, a monochromatic brown color. Natasha took a deep breath. The air tasted different, its plasticky coolness now seeming to mask a musky, thicker air beneath, and a scent like what one might experience in a fallow pasture room in the Farms.
    Eric went to the nearest shelf and ran one gloved hand over the surface. He held up the circle of dirt on his finger for show.
    â€œThis is gross,” he said.
    â€œWe’re technically in the Outside now, Eric,” Jeffrey said. “The environment rules here. Dirt, leaf, microbes, mammals. Our control ended at the airlock.”
    Jeffrey took a gun off the rack, loaded it, and handed it to Natasha; the dust had settled in the grooves along the barrel and in the curve of the trigger.
    â€œDon’t worry,” Douglas said. “We tested them pretty recently, they’re clean where it matters.”
    â€œI’ll take your word for it,” Natasha said.
    She holstered the gun at her waist and waited while the others did the same. They had gone through this process in the Pretends, but the reality of it was different. Her body felt clumsier, and her fingers thicker, in a way she could