“Good girl,” Mitzi said. “How’s Adam?”

“Non-responsive. I think he passed out. The others are carrying him.”

Mitzi swore under her breath and quickened her pace, leaping up the steps three at a time, occasionally sparing a glance behind herself to make sure Franc was still with her and nothing was creeping up behind them.

They reached the top of the stairs, where it opened into the passageway. To her right was the stairwell that would take them to the surface, but Mitzi ignored it and went left, where she could see the flickering flame coming from Skye’s flamethrower. The hallway seemed to stretch on forever; passageways periodically branched off each side, and doors, some open, studded the walls, all offering access to dark rooms. Mitzi ignored the closed doors—better not to tempt fate—but stopped beside each open doorway, poking her nozzle inside to check the contents.

“Look for an empty room,” Mitzi said as she came abreast of Skye. “Somewhere we can barricade ourselves inside while we check on Adam.” She looked into the open doorway they were passing and grimaced. Three corpses lay in the corner, each holding a gun. Trickles of dried blood accompanied small holes in their temples. They preferred to be dead than a Cymic. Can’t say I blame them.

“Here’s a rec room,” Skye said, holding a door open.

Mitzi paused in the entrance, searching for motion, then cautiously stepped inside.

Station recreation rooms often doubled as secure areas in case of emergency. That meant their doors could be locked with reinforced bolts, and there were emergency systems in place for in case the power went down. Mitzi stalked through the room, checking behind the couches and the TV that had been smashed to the floor, then made sure the door was still intact before beckoning her team in with a grin. “This is perfect. Get in here, you lot. Mir, Eoin, Skye—put Adam down on that lounge. Careful of his head. Skye, lock the door.”

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Mitzi pulled a half dozen glow sticks out of her pouch, snapped them to activate their spark, and tossed them around to light the room in subdued blues and greens. Then she knelt beside Adam, who was no longer moving.

“Nic, you still with us?”

“Always and forever, doll.”

“Tell me how to unlock a suit.”

“I can do that from my end. Which one?”

“Adam’s.”

Nic was silent for a moment as Mitzi listened to him type. Then Adam’s suit clicked, and the plates relaxed their grip. “That’s unlocked. You can pull it open now.”

Mitzi tried, but her gloves were too thick to get under the plates. Grumbling, she stood up and pressed the switch inside her glove to deactivate her own suit. It whirred as it unlocked and split open, and Mitzi stepped out with a sigh of relief. Being without her suit felt strange, as though gravity were heavier than it was supposed to be, and every movement took more energy than it should have. The cool air felt good against her sweaty skin, though.