Saul sagged back, and Maren grabbed him, keeping him upright as they gazed at the horrific scene outside.

The first woman, the tall one, had leaned over Suriya’s prone form. Without the knife, and her strength sapped by the poisonous air, Suriya was unable to fight as the tendrils forced themselves down her throat. The tall woman pulled back, smirking, then stood to join her companions as Suriya started to twitch.

Maren, horrified and mesmerised, was only vaguely aware of Gin pressing buttons on the control panel to her right. By the time Gin spat out her Temp and said, “Airlock stabilised,” Suriya had stopped moving. Maren, both hands occupied keeping Saul upright, spat the plastic puck onto the floor. A second clatter told her Saul had done the same.

“We need to get out of here,” Saul said, his voice thick from pain again.

“Okay.” Maren carefully swivelled the large man towards the internal doors then hesitated. “Uh. Please tell me one of you knows how to pilot a ship.”

“I do,” Saul said. “Get me to the cockpit.”

Gin pressed more buttons on the panel to open the internal doors, letting them into the ship. Maren spared a glance over her shoulder as she helped Saul in and shuddered to see the area outside the ship was empty, save for a small splatter of black and the discarded knife.

The ship was large, and Maren recognised the layout as belonging to an emergency supplies unit. All stations were restocked every six weeks, but if there was a disaster or the station was going to run out of essential supplies before the restocking, an emergency supplies unit was sent to them. The three-person crews typically lived on their ships for months or even years at a time, bouncing between whichever planets needed their help. That means we’ll have plenty of food and water, at least, Maren thought as she led Saul left, through a set of heavy doors, past a lounge area and towards the front of the ship. They might actually be large enough to be carrying more than a basic range of medical supplies. I’d give just about anything for one of those intelligent metal casts for Saul’s leg.

The living areas were smaller than the ones on Station 334, but it was comfortable and decorated in attractive muted colours. Maren found the cockpit and helped Saul into the large leather seat in front of the dashboard. As soon as he sat down, the creases on his face smoothed out, and he started working on the dash, preparing the ship to take off.

“We’re going to be safe in here, right?” Gin asked, sitting on Saul’s other side. She eyed the dash with envy; Maren wouldn’t be surprised if she managed to coax Saul into teaching her how to pilot the ship. “From the gamma flare, I mean.”

“Yes,” Saul said. The engines started with a heavy rumble that reverberated through the seats. Saul pulled the harness over his shoulders, connected it, pulled the straps tight, then stared at Maren and Gin until they hastily followed his example. He started to press the throttle forward, but just as the ship started to move, it stalled.