“Bit weird that they’d send it to every station if it only applies to exo and fringe ones.”

“Hmm.”

“Maybe Mark’s right, and there’s a virus going around.”

“Maybe.”

They’d reached the bolt. Maren waved a hand towards it. “Damn thing won’t unscrew for me. Would you mind?”

“This is why they won’t promote you,” Saul said. He was watching her out of the corner of his grey eyes.

Maren stared at him, trying to understand his meaning. “What? You think they’re not promoting me because I’m weak?”

Saul gripped the wrench in one hand and gave it a shove. The stiff metal screeched as the huge bolt came loose. “No. It’s because you’re tiny.” He turned and continued up the hallway, his boots thudding on the tile floor as he made for the recreation room.

Maren frowned at his back. “Huh. Okay. Thanks, I guess.”

Saul’s footsteps hadn’t quite faded when the sirens started, announcing the approach of a gamma flare.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The very thing that made Cycern’s stations ideal for communications centres also made them some of the most high-maintenance stations in the local system. They were skirting the edge of a cluster of wormholes, which they could use to receive, process, and send messages in a fraction of the time it would otherwise take. The closer planets could send recorded messages, while the more remote stations were able to send signals indicating that they needed new supplies, assessment, or emergency assistance.

The wormholes released bursts of gamma rays once or twice a day. The rays raised the temperature of the planet to over two hundred degrees and would roast any organism that wasn’t shielded.

When she’d moved to station 334, at least half of Maren’s week-long training had involved protocol for dealing with the gamma flares. The flares didn’t follow any sort of schedule, but the station’s early detection systems could predict when they were coming with a few hours’ warning. A signal would be sent out, any crew outside the station returned immediately, and the hulking metal building would lock down for the two hours it took the flares to pass.

Cycern’s stations had been carefully designed to withstand the incredible heat and damage the flares caused. The double-walled metal structures were expected to last for up to a century with proper maintenance, and they even did a good job of maintaining a steady temperature inside. Maren’s job as the maintenance worker was to ensure that the building stayed in good condition, and prevent disasters before they could occur.

She did most of her work on the outside of the station, where the gamma rays were most likely to wear down the shields, but her diagnostic tools had shown the insulation had deteriorated in part of the interior wall, so she’d spent most of that day trying to remove the steel plates to replace the packing inside.

“Damn, damn, damn,” she groaned, struggling with another bolt stiff from a decade of neglect. When she worked on the outside of the station, she could use mechanical tools to undo and tighten the bolts, but the machines were too large to manoeuvre through the station’s hallways. The wrench was leaving red bruises on her hands, but she didn’t want to have to call Saul again.