I made it up three flights before I buckled. My bruised arm hurt beyond all reason, and my legs had become shaky and unreliable. I leant my back against the smooth white wall and slid down into a sitting position. The floor was cold against my bare flanks. The stairwells were rarely used, and I had seen no one else during my ascent—although I hated to think how many might be imprisoned in the nonfunctional travel tubes. Looking up the spiralling climb ahead of me, I realised I lacked the strength to continue. Despite my determination to reach Adam, I required medical treatment. If the ship had been at all operational, it would already have dispatched automated emergency drones to help me; the fact it had not indicated a system failure so complete it had taken down even the last-ditch, failsafe backups designed to protect the passengers and crew in the unlikely event of a crash. The thought sent ice crackling through my veins. I’d never heard of a ship failing so utterly outside of a warzone. My hands were shaking. My breaths came in tight, pained little gulps. With the ’dam’s personality out of the equation, I had to get myself patched up as soon as possible. I couldn’t afford to go into shock. The air and heat wouldn’t last forever, and the food dispensers would be offline. We were three or four days’ flight from the nearest outpost of the Generality, and who knew how long we would have to survive in this broken shell.

With regret, I abandoned my attempt to scale the stairs, and began instead to ease myself downwards, sliding from step to step. The lowest deck held an infirmary, which would hold the painkillers and anti-shock treatments I’d need to get through the next few hours. After that, I suspected it would be every citizen for him or her self. If Adam were still alive, he would have to wait. In my own brusque way, I had loved him, but I had never loved him enough to override my innate pragmatism. Ultimately, his death meant less to me than my own.

Already, I had started to think about him in the past tense.

Twelve: Sal Konstanz

TWELVE

SAL KONSTANZ

I found Nod in a crawlspace between two engine blocks, using an access hatch to install a replacement component in one of the secondary power buses.

Although it was late, Nod didn’t mind me being there. I could have curled up in its nest and it wouldn’t have challenged me. Although famed for their grumpiness, the Druff possessed little in the way of territorial jealousy. As long as I didn’t get in the way of its work, it would quite happily tolerate my presence.

“How’s it going?” I asked.

Nod didn’t look up with any of his faces. “Much sadness.”

“You’re sad?”