They took a left, then a right, and followed another long hallway before reaching the entrance to the rec room. Just as they eased Saul inside, a loud screeching, metallic noise came from deeper in the station.

They’re out, Maren thought, and Saul’s quick intake of breath confirmed her suspicions.

Saul released her and leaned against the wall instead. “Go. I’ll lock this door. You get the others.”

Maren sprinted right, towards the second entrance to the rec room, while Gin ran in the opposite direction.

The rec room had been designed as an emergency containment room. It was large enough to hold the station’s entire eighty-six staff, and the double-reinforced and insulated doors could be manually locked in case the lockdown equipment malfunctioned or the station’s outer hull was breached. Maren skidded to a halt beside the second set of doors and slammed her fist against the red button below the communication unit. The door slid down, blocking the corridor outside. An identical communication unit just outside the doors would let other station members open them. She would need to lock the doors manually with an access code that couldn’t be overridden.

“Saul?” Maren called.

“Five-one-one-six-eight-two-seven,” he called back.

Maren entered his code then selected the “door lock” option. The light turned green.

Every member of the station had a unique access code, but some held more weight than others. Maren, being a maintenance worker, had one of the lowest code ranks, which almost every other station member could override. On the other hand, only the station commander could supersede the defence technician’s code.

“Locked,” she called, already running towards the final door. A second later, Gin echoed her with another, “Locked!”

Maren paused in front of the fourth door, her hand hovering over the access pad, and glanced down the hallway, which led into the pantry. We need water. If Mark and Holly tried to follow us through the main passageway, this could be our best chance to grab some supplies.

“Maren!” Saul called, but she ignored him and dashed through the doorway, her boots echoing on the concrete floor.

The pantry, a rectangular concrete room the size of a small warehouse, held enough long-life food and bottled water to last a full station for over a month. The shelves closest to her door were filled with powdered nutrients and vitamins, but she jogged past them, trying to remember where the water was stored.

A quiet, grating sound made her pause. She listened, trying to figure out where it was coming from. The dining room? The bathrooms beyond that?

She quieted her steps as much as possible as she continued to creep through the warehouse. The shelves, laid out in neat rows on either side of her, were filled with every edible supply the station might need, including baby formula and food devoid of every possible allergen.

The scraping sound seemed to be getting closer. Maren barely dared to breathe as she lowered herself into a crouch. She needed to get back to the rec room as quickly as possible, but if rescue took more than a day—and she strongly suspected it would—they would need as much water as she could carry.