When he wakes, the plant has grown around him. It doesn’t seem plant-like any more, and Brisbane thinks he feels a pulse. Unless he is feeling his own. Good reminder that he is still alive.

“AIA. Carmilla. Sonic feedback,” he says. His voice sounds weak to himself.

The plant-animal thing falls away, but the action ruptures the tunnel and Brisbane falls too. More like he spins in artificial gravity. His suit tears against sharp metal edges. This part of the ship is oxygen poor. Suit filters fail because of the rupture. He is in a spin, which he corrects. He looks around and sees the gap he broke through. He pushes to it, through it, avoiding the sharpness.

“Shall we continue?” he says.

“No,” says Carmilla. “The shuttle is not viable any more. They’re doing things, changing the orientation of the Ragtime, building a new antenna. You were out for almost an hour. The suit helped you breathe with negative pressure.”

“I fainted?”

“You had a mini-stroke.”

“Shit.”

“Go back to the nest. They don’t have much time left. We can wait them out.”

Brisbane, waiting, drifting in micrograv, hears noises. Lights break through the dark. The enhanced vision shows him who it is: Campion.

She fiddles with the dead body he ate for lunch and he watches her tight, rapid little movements. Uncertain. He wonders how she tracked him.

“Sonic feedback,” says Carmilla.

Brisbane shakes his head. “No, she’s just doing her job.”

Her torch flashes and he is caught in the beam.

“Hey!” She has a mini-PA in her suit.

“Repeat exactly what I say, Brisbane,” says Carmilla.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” asks Campion.

He turns off the enhanced vision because her torch dazzles him, then he takes his cue from the voice in his head.

“My name is Brisbane. Just stay out of my way and everything will be fine.”

“Did you kill this man?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I needed something to eat.” She recoils, shocked.

“You needed something to… What?”

“I don’t have time for this.”

Brisbane launches from his crouch and flies down the tunnel.

Chapter Twenty-eight

Ragtime: Shell

They gather in the bridge, all of them. Shell, Fin, Joké, Lawrence, Salvo and Frances. Ragtime is fully functional now, but he is not the captain. Nobody trusts him.

“We have twenty-four hours to live,” says Shell. “We have glitchy AI and no real comms to speak of. Maybe somebody’s on their way, maybe nobody’s coming. I don’t think we should spend our last day alive scrambling about the bulkhead or chasing mutants. Quiet reflection is what I suggest. All channels are open and Ragtime can alert us if something turns up. Don’t think we’ve failed. We did find the killer.