“Fourth time this month,” Gin noted, grinning broadly since she was no longer in danger of incurring Suriya’s wrath. “I really think they’re going to get fired if they keep it up.”

“There aren’t any rules against romance.” Maren shrugged. “Not technically, anyway. And it’s not doing any harm. But talking about doing harm to stuff, I need some more help, Saul—”

She turned to face the defence technician, but the hallway behind her was deserted. “Jeeze, he’s gone already? How can someone so big be so quiet?”

“Find him later,” Gin said as she threaded her arm through Maren’s. “I’ve got something to show you.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

Maren settled into the empty seat beside Gin. The control centre, like the rest of the station, felt eerily quiet without its usual throng of workers. Gin’s section of the board was lit up, but the rest of the eight-meter system lay dormant.

“So, you remember me telling you about that spate of emergency help requests we’ve had over the last week?” Gin asked as she pressed buttons and adjusted dials.

“Yeah.”

“More came through this morning. A dozen more, mostly from the remote stations, but also a couple audio messages from the nearer ones.”

“A dozen? Jeeze.”

“I showed them to Suriya, but she just told me to do my job and divert them to Central. But here’s the thing… Central isn’t responding to them. I’m getting the standard acknowledgement mark, but no notification of any response teams being sent out.”

Maren frowned and rubbed the heel of her palm over her brow. Central was obsessive about protecting its system—when a station had trouble, Central usually dispatched a response team within the hour. “The audio messages. What are they saying?”

“That’s what I wanted to show you. Listen.” Gin pressed a red button and slid a volume adjuster upwards.

“This is Commander Tarus on Station 509,” a man said. He was speaking clearly, but his voice was tight. “My team found a lifeform outside our station. We believe it’s hostile. It’s broken through the doors of our quarantine area, and while it’s contained, we don’t know how long we can keep it that way. Please respond immediately.”

“And Central didn’t send a team?” Maren asked, incredulous.

“That’s right. Here’s another one.”

“Station 775.” The speaker was a woman. “My team is dead. I repeat, my team is dead. Immediate assistance is needed.”

“And this one.”

“Station 318. My crew was attacked by an unidentified lifeform.” The man was clearly trying to stay professional, but his voice was edging into hysterical. “Donovon and myself made it back inside, but Kyle was killed. I saw him die.” He paused, his breathing rough. “But now he’s at the door. He’s knocking to be let in. He died, and he wants to be let in.”

Maren swore under her breath.

Gin was watching her carefully. “Want to hear the last one?”

“Yes.”

Gin pressed another button on the dash, and a woman’s voice filled the room.