“Just like I would be dead without you.” Vivian shot her an appraising glance out of the corner of her eyes. “I wouldn’t have thought to use fire against them.”

Kala nodded. She was trying very hard not to think about the lives that had been lost on her station. A hundred and fifty-nine people had been there just that morning. She wondered if any of them had managed to get to the hangars in time.

“You’re terrible at this,” Vivian interrupted, motioning towards the controls Kala was manipulating. “You’re wasting fuel. Let me take over.”

“Sure.”

“If you want to do something, start sending alerts to all of the planets within easy communication distance. They need to know about what happened. And they need to know that they’re at risk, too.”

“Yeah,” Kala said, getting out of her seat so Vivian could scoot over. Her entire body was starting to ache from the last hour’s exertion. She brushed her fingers over the tattered, dirty, bloodied canary-yellow suit. It felt like months ago that she’d been following Stanos into the labs.

She settled into the co-pilot’s seat and began pulling up the wavelengths she would need to use to contact other stations.

Vivian took over the controls, resetting some and altering others. “The ship’s low on fuel,” she noted, “but we have enough to set a course for an area we can be picked up in. I think you and I might actually make it out of this alive.”

“And that’s something,” Kala said, smiling despite her aches, her fears, and the memories she knew she would never be able to erase. She typed the first code into her system and spoke into the microphone.

“This is Kala Holcroft and Vivian Magennie aboard the Delta Shock. Station 333 has been destroyed. Repeat, Station 333 has been destroyed. There is a new threat to our network that must be acted on immediately…”

Part Four

STATION 334

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Maren leaned on the wrench with her full weight, her teeth clenched, feet slipping on the tile floor. The dish-sized bolt designed to hold the station’s interior hull together moved a fraction of an inch then froze again.

“Damn it,” Maren hissed, easing off the wrench and stretching her aching arms. “Stop being so bleeding stubborn. Do you want me to call Saul on you?”

“Here’s a tip.” The cool voice came from the hallway behind Maren, making her jump. “Don’t talk to the infrastructure. People will start thinking you’re crazy.”

The station’s leader, Suriya, stood in the doorway that led to the work areas. She folded her arms across her chest and regarded Maren through heavy-lidded eyes for a second before flicking her gaze to the harshly lit metal hallway.

Maren grinned apologetically. “Sorry, it’s just that I’ve half drowned the damn thing in oil, and it still won’t come loose—”

“There’s an info package,” Suriya said, cutting across Maren. The older woman continued to let her gaze flick over the hall, glancing at each door in turn. “Marked urgent.”