Many larger stations—including 334, when it wasn’t in hibernation—had full-time psychologists to identify and treat problems before they could take root. Crew members who showed signs of fracturing were quickly reassigned to less stressful, more Earth-like planets. Maren couldn’t help but wonder if Suriya’s letter, suggesting her relocation to a different station, had been a result of a mental health assessment.

Maren turned her attention back to the screen looking into the airlock. Mark had gotten Holly’s helmet off and was cradling her body, caressing her face with more tenderness than Maren had ever seen him express. Gin leaned forward on her desk, hands clasped under her chin. Maren placed an arm around her shoulder, felt her friend tremble, and squeezed.

Inside the airlock, the young woman twitched then stirred, and her eyes opened.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Gin whispered, slumping over her desk.

Maren let her breath out with a whoosh, but she didn’t dare look away. She couldn’t see him, but she suspected Saul was watching the screen just as intently as she was.

Mark pulled Holly into a semi-sitting pose, still cradling her head. Holly smiled and raised a hand to stroke Mark’s face. She was speaking to him, but the screen didn’t relay sound. Mark’s shoulders shook, and Holly covered the back of his hand with hers. Maren could lip-read what the woman was saying: “Thank you.”

She leaned up as Mark leaned down, and they kissed. Maren, realising she was intruding on a very personal moment, cleared her throat and turned away. “You doing okay, Saul?”

“Hmm.”

“Want some of those pain tablets now?”

His eyebrows lowered, and his mouth narrowed. “Look.”

Maren turned back to the screen.

The couple were still kissing, but something wasn’t right. Mark seemed to be struggling to tug his head backwards. He let go of Holly, but she stayed pressed against him, her hands on either side of his head as she held him still. He started twitching.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Gin smothered a shriek, and her hands began fluttering over the control panel. “The chip—I don’t have the chip to open the doors.”

“I doubt we could help him, anyway,” Saul said.

Mark was actively fighting her, batting his hands against Holly’s chest. As he pulled to one side and their angle changed, Maren was able to see Holly’s face. It had split down its centre, from the hairline to the chin, and terrible squirming black tendrils were stretching out to stick against Mark’s face. His body was convulsing horribly, but he couldn’t escape the blackness.

Gin scrambled out of her chair, both hands covering her mouth. She looked nauseated as she watched the screen. Maren, whose stomach had been unsteady for most of the afternoon and was threatening to upend itself again, couldn’t tear her eyes away from the repulsive spectacle.

The monster that had been Holly pushed Mark onto his back. He’d stopped fighting, and his arms were limp by his side, though he was still twitching. Holly finally pulled back, the tendrils lazily retreating into her face. The skin pulled back over them, knitting together seamlessly, until there was no sign of the creature anymore. It was just Holly, leaning over her lover, smiling down at him with such sweetness that it was hard for Maren to imagine the woman didn’t adore him.