“Jeeze, that looks nasty,” Maren said as she cut Saul’s uniform off his broken leg. Large, dark-red bruises were forming along the shin. “How badly does it hurt?”

“Yes,” was all he said.

“Well, we can put a splint on now and give you some painkillers, but we’ll need to wait for Suriya to treat it properly.”

Maren glanced at the older woman, the only one out of them with comprehensive medical training, and once again felt a flutter of fear in her chest as she wondered if their leader was in a fit state to do anything. She hadn’t moved at all since they’d gotten inside. Maren imagined pulling the helmet off her leader’s head and seeing a ghost-white face underneath, twisted into a death grimace, and pushed the image out of her mind with a shudder.

She pulled the first-aid kit off the wall then grabbed two straight, smooth brackets from the shelves and held them on either side of Saul’s leg while she bound them tightly with a bandage. “Sorry,” she said as he squinted against the pain. “Mark, can you get him two of those tablets?”

“No,” Saul said through gritted teeth.

“Come on; they’ll help the pain.”

“Dull my senses,” he managed. “Can’t afford it.”

Maren sighed and tied off the bandage. “Okay. Well, we’ll get you somewhere you can rest, at least. Mark, help me get him up.”

They each hooked an arm under one of Saul’s shoulders and lifted him. Maren’s legs felt weak as the adrenaline leaked out of her system, but Saul was able to carry almost all of his weight as he lifted his injured leg high and hopped between them.

“Where to?” Mark asked as they exited the airlock and turned down the hallway.

“Let’s get to the communications room,” Maren said. “We’ll get Saul onto the bench, go back for Suriya, then see what Gin can tell us about the those… things… whatever attacked us.”

“Maren.”

She’d been so busy watching their feet, Maren hadn’t realised Gin was standing in the hallway ahead of them. She had her arms wrapped around her body, and tears were leaking down her cheeks as she shook.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Maren said quickly. “We’re here. We’re all right.”

“No, it’s… it’s… Holly.”

“What?” Mark nearly dropped Saul, and Maren had to tighten her grip on the bear-sized man to stop them from tumbling over.

“Hey,” Maren barked. “Get him into the room first.”

Gin stepped out of the way so they could move into the communications room. Maren used her spare hand to swipe a bundle of paperwork off the bench that ran along the back then they eased Saul into the clear space. He leaned back with a sigh.

Maren turned to Gin and gripped her shoulders. “Okay. What about Holly?”

“She’s outside.” Fresh tears were leaking down Holly’s cheeks as she pointed to the screen suspended above her desk. “She’s dying.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Maren, horrified, moved towards the screen. It was tuned to the camera above the airlock’s external door, which they’d barely gotten through moments before. A woman stood outside, wearing her full suit, beating her gloved fists against the door. The camera had been calibrated to look through the tinted helmet glass, and Holly’s delicate face, wide eyed and drenched with sweat, pleaded with them.