The interior of the cavity fell away downwards in a grand gothic sweep quite at odds with the stark minimalism of the planet’s exterior. I merely lay on the top step of a vast spiral staircase. The individual steps were the size of coffins. They had been carved from semi-translucent quartz and then splayed like the feathers of a swan’s outstretched wing. The ceiling overhead was also white, and ribbed like the gullet of a fish.

I leant out of the fish’s mouth. Adam had to jump to reach my hand. I hauled him up beside me and we sat looking at the giant curving staircase.

“How far down do you think it goes?”

I stood and brushed dust from my suit. “If we want to stay out of sight, we’re going to have to find that out for ourselves.”

His eyes widened. “We’re going down there?”

“What choice do we have?” I rubbed my palms together to hide my own apprehension. “The deeper we go, the less chance anyone will come looking for us.”

Adam’s head turned back toward the canyon, and the sound of metal claws. “Do you think they’re still after us?”

“I don’t think they’re after us.” I rubbed the back of my neck where the suit’s neck seal had chafed the skin. “I think they’re after me.”

“Because of Pelapatarn?”

“Why else?”

The noise grew closer.

“Do you think they’ll reach us up here?”

“Hopefully the walls are too smooth for them to climb.”

“What if they’re not?”

Hauling him up by the scruff of his neck, I propelled him towards the edge of the first step.

“We go down.”

Thirty: Sal Konstanz

THIRTY

SAL KONSTANZ

I found Ashton Childe standing in the ship’s galley drinking coffee. The exoskeleton clung to him like a parasite. He looked up as I approached.

“Hello, Captain.”

“How is it?”

“The coffee?”

“The skeleton.”

“How do you think?” He looked pale and distracted, like a man trying to hold a conversation while defusing a bomb. He glanced down at his free hand and flexed the fingers. “It takes some getting used to.”

“Preston tells me you’re taking a hell of a risk wearing that. With your injuries, you should be in bed.”

“Needs must, Captain.”

The coffee smelled good and my stomach rumbled.

“Is your mission really that important?”

The left side of his face jerked as if stung. The eyelid fluttered. When he spoke, he over-pronounced each word the way Clay sometimes did when she was very drunk.

“It’s not for me to know the significance of an assignment, merely to complete it as ordered.”

“Even if it kills you?”

“You were in the military, Captain.” His hands kept fidgeting, and I wondered how much coffee he had drunk. “You know about duty.”

“Surely there’s a difference between duty and blind, unquestioning loyalty?”