CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Dinner that night started as a quiet affair. While they were in lockdown for the flare, all non-essential systems powered down, including the main electricity grid. They ate reconstituted cereals and packets of lab-grown meats in the dim light provided by two backup globes.

Mark and Holly, both a little dishevelled, had come in late and pulled their chairs so close together that their elbows kept bumping as they ate. They inclined their heads towards each other, exchanging whispers followed by giggles, as Suriya glared at them from the other end of the table.

Saul had spoken more in those brief minutes in the communications room than he did in most full days, and he made up for it by maintaining a stiff silence. Maren and Holly both toyed with their food, too disturbed by what they’d heard to have much interest in eating.

“You’re a jolly bunch tonight,” Mark said when they’d nearly finished. His energy, which Maren normally found infectious, was making her skin crawl. “What? Did everyone’s favourite pet die on the same day?”

Saul didn’t look up from his plate. Suriya scowled at the couple but remained silent. Maren and Gin exchanged a glance, and Maren knew that, as little as Mark was in the mood to hear it, he should know about the messages. “Gin’s been getting a lot of assistance requests lately.”

“Yeah,” Mark said around a mouthful of thick grey paste. “She told us this morning.”

“Well, there’re even more now. And some audio messages. There are… things attacking the stations. People are dying. Central isn’t sending any help.”

Maren watched Suriya out of the corner of her eyes, but their leader gave no indication of having heard her.

Mark wrapped his arm around Holly’s shoulders and pecked her cheek. She giggled and gave him a playful shove in response.

“Well,” he said as he detangled himself, “it’s only a problem for the exo and fringe stations, right? Stop stressing about it. Central will figure something out.”

Hot anger ran through Maren’s veins. She tightened her grip on the fork, turning her knuckles white. “Are you kidding me? You seriously can’t be this self-centred. People are dying!”

Mark scowled at her, his good mood dissipated.

Holly scraped her chair a few inches away from him.

“Yeah, and what do you want me to do about it?” he asked. “It’s not my problem if some clowns on another station can’t follow proper procedure—”

Maren’s palm made a beautiful cracking noise as it hit Mark’s cheek. His eyes bugged in shock as he lurched back in his chair, almost tipping it. A second of silence passed as they stared at each other, Mark holding a palm against the hurt cheek and glaring daggers. Maren leaned halfway across the table, panting, hand still held in midair in case she decided Mark needed another dose.

Then Holly split the quiet with a shriek. “How dare you! How dare you!”

She threw herself towards Maren, but before either woman could land a blow, Saul forced himself between them.