at the floor. There’s a chalk drawing on it, a child’s drawing, all big heads and misshapen eyes. A man and a girl, holding hands.
I stare at it, picking my next words carefully. I don’t dare tell him about Knox – not yet. But I have to make him help me. It’s the only idea I’ve got.
“And why shouldn’t we go get her?” I say. “She’s been in there for months. There’s no council to convict her. It’s time she got what’s coming.”
“Were you not—”
“Your guys are right. I do have inside knowledge. I could protect you. I could make sure the stompers never come near the Caves.”
He looks at me, his eyes giving away nothing.
Eventually, he shakes his head. “Sorry. There’s no way. You get safe passage out of the sector, but that’s all I’m—”
Someone starts yelling for him in the passage outside.
“Busy,” he shouts.
But there’s more sound coming from outside. Panicked voices, the noise of running feet. Syria looks towards the door, starts to rise off the bed.
The shout comes again. “Syria, get out here!”
Syria takes off, sprinting out of the room. I’m right on his heels.
The line by the water point has scattered, people running in all directions – all except one man, on his hands and knees. He wears a dirty, tattered flight jacket, his long hair hanging down around his face.
He’s coughing – huge, hacking bursts. And every time he coughs, he sprays thick, black, shiny tendrils from his mouth.
24
Prakesh
Prakesh gets to the doorway a second before Tseng does. He knows what Tseng means to do – there’s a control panel on the other side of the door. You need a code to access its functions, but you can use it to seal the Air Lab. A safety precaution, built in when the door was installed.
“Whoa, hey,” Prakesh says, slamming his hand around the door frame. “What’s going on?”
Tseng stumbles to a halt, staring daggers at Prakesh. Stompers are closing in behind him – there are more now, Prakesh sees, at least half a dozen.
“Emergency situation,” Tseng says. “Step aside. We need to seal the lab.”
“Not a chance,” Prakesh says. He knows he’s on shaky ground – technically, a station council member can make that particular call. But there’s no way he’s letting them seal the techs in. Not without knowing why.
“Step aside , Kumar,” Tseng says, looking over his shoulder at the stompers. “This isn’t your concern.”
“Yeah, don’t care,” says Prakesh. It’s then that he sees the tracer unit, running towards them from the far end of the corridor. Kev is in the lead, elbowing his way past the other stompers. Carver is trailing him, along with the other girl Riley works with – Anna, that’s her name .
All three of them are wearing face masks. The masks are thin plastic, covering their mouths and noses and chins.
“Sir,” says one of the other stompers – a thin man with an even thinner mouth. “We need you to step back, and secure your employees.”
“Not until—”
“ Now .”
Prakesh can feel the other technicians congregating behind him. He looks over his shoulder; they form a loose semicircle, dozens of them, staring in confusion at the standoff. They’ve seen the masks, too, and they’re whispering to each other, already nervous. He has to get control of this now.
“Look,” he says, spreading his hands. “You need to tell me what’s going on. If you’re going to shut us in here, then we should at least know what’s happening.”
“Virus.”
Everyone turns to look at Anna Beck, jogging to a halt. She rests a hand on Kev’s shoulder, bent over, holding her other hand at her side.
“Officer,” Tseng says, all but hissing the words. “You’re not authorised.”
Anna ignores him. “It’s bad,” she says, looking at Prakesh. “People coughing up black gunk everywhere. It was in the mess first, but we’re getting reports from all over.”
Prakesh hears gasps from behind him. He lets out a
I stare at it, picking my next words carefully. I don’t dare tell him about Knox – not yet. But I have to make him help me. It’s the only idea I’ve got.
“And why shouldn’t we go get her?” I say. “She’s been in there for months. There’s no council to convict her. It’s time she got what’s coming.”
“Were you not—”
“Your guys are right. I do have inside knowledge. I could protect you. I could make sure the stompers never come near the Caves.”
He looks at me, his eyes giving away nothing.
Eventually, he shakes his head. “Sorry. There’s no way. You get safe passage out of the sector, but that’s all I’m—”
Someone starts yelling for him in the passage outside.
“Busy,” he shouts.
But there’s more sound coming from outside. Panicked voices, the noise of running feet. Syria looks towards the door, starts to rise off the bed.
The shout comes again. “Syria, get out here!”
Syria takes off, sprinting out of the room. I’m right on his heels.
The line by the water point has scattered, people running in all directions – all except one man, on his hands and knees. He wears a dirty, tattered flight jacket, his long hair hanging down around his face.
He’s coughing – huge, hacking bursts. And every time he coughs, he sprays thick, black, shiny tendrils from his mouth.
24
Prakesh
Prakesh gets to the doorway a second before Tseng does. He knows what Tseng means to do – there’s a control panel on the other side of the door. You need a code to access its functions, but you can use it to seal the Air Lab. A safety precaution, built in when the door was installed.
“Whoa, hey,” Prakesh says, slamming his hand around the door frame. “What’s going on?”
Tseng stumbles to a halt, staring daggers at Prakesh. Stompers are closing in behind him – there are more now, Prakesh sees, at least half a dozen.
“Emergency situation,” Tseng says. “Step aside. We need to seal the lab.”
“Not a chance,” Prakesh says. He knows he’s on shaky ground – technically, a station council member can make that particular call. But there’s no way he’s letting them seal the techs in. Not without knowing why.
“Step aside , Kumar,” Tseng says, looking over his shoulder at the stompers. “This isn’t your concern.”
“Yeah, don’t care,” says Prakesh. It’s then that he sees the tracer unit, running towards them from the far end of the corridor. Kev is in the lead, elbowing his way past the other stompers. Carver is trailing him, along with the other girl Riley works with – Anna, that’s her name .
All three of them are wearing face masks. The masks are thin plastic, covering their mouths and noses and chins.
“Sir,” says one of the other stompers – a thin man with an even thinner mouth. “We need you to step back, and secure your employees.”
“Not until—”
“ Now .”
Prakesh can feel the other technicians congregating behind him. He looks over his shoulder; they form a loose semicircle, dozens of them, staring in confusion at the standoff. They’ve seen the masks, too, and they’re whispering to each other, already nervous. He has to get control of this now.
“Look,” he says, spreading his hands. “You need to tell me what’s going on. If you’re going to shut us in here, then we should at least know what’s happening.”
“Virus.”
Everyone turns to look at Anna Beck, jogging to a halt. She rests a hand on Kev’s shoulder, bent over, holding her other hand at her side.
“Officer,” Tseng says, all but hissing the words. “You’re not authorised.”
Anna ignores him. “It’s bad,” she says, looking at Prakesh. “People coughing up black gunk everywhere. It was in the mess first, but we’re getting reports from all over.”
Prakesh hears gasps from behind him. He lets out a
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