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Chapters (53)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise for
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. EPILOGUE
  51. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  52. About the Author
  53. What’s next onyour reading list?

“That’s good,” she said into her wrist monitor. “Thank you. We’re expecting five code blues on board, crewmates Aries, Endrizzi, Sverdal, Iwasa and Yasin. Can you confirm?”

“You memorized all that?” Walters whispered.

She ignored him. There was another pause, this one longer. Rosalyn frowned and leaned in closer to her VIT, which was silly, considering the response would come from the speakers embedded in the ceiling above them. Walters breathed loudly next to her, practically panting. She couldn’t blame him—there was no reason for a Servitor to take so long to respond. The dead crew ought to be obvious and his response similarly forthcoming. And logged.

“Confirmed,” the Servitor finally said. The speakers crackled softly as the AI went on, and Rosalyn felt the blood slowly and painfully drain from her face. “Crewmates Aries, Endrizzi, Iwasa and Yasin present aboard MSC research vessel 705-B, call sign MWC-70, all life readings green. Crew Member Sverdal deceased. Permission to board granted. Confirm?”

7

Walters gasp-choked so loudly it made her jump. “Life readings? Shit. Oh, shit. The crew are still alive in there? That’s not good, Devar.”

Rosalyn remained quiet, focused, staring directly at her VIT monitor and nothing else. Perspiration beaded on her forehead. Training had prepared her for this. She had run into all kinds of fuckups and glitches and misinformation on previous missions, not to mention liquefied cats and people, so there was no reason to overreact. Not yet, anyway. And if the crew were alive in there, then it would be huge news for Merchantia. Girdy would probably do a jig when they told him. Someone would get shitcanned for trying to redirect them to a bored senator. One dead woman was still awful, but four living was practically a miracle.

“Are you insane? Of course it’s good. Still want to go off course and help that stranded senator? Just . . . just please be quiet and let me handle this,” she hissed. “Servitor, give me the current location of the crew, please.”

Walters fidgeted, then broke away from her side and began to pace. Clearly he had never run into a hiccup on a mission before, or the salvagers with him had kept the problems quiet. Rosalyn wasn’t going to let this go pear-shaped because they couldn’t keep it together on their end. She reached out with her free hand and grabbed his arm, hard.

She didn’t let go until the Servitor gave its response.

“Unknown. Confirm?”

“Yes, confirmed,” Rosalyn said, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. This was either a positive sign or a very bad one. “Can you give me your location?”

“Cockpit galley, confirm?”

“Great, yes, confirmed. And while you’re there, give me a quick oxygen reading.”

Rosalyn let go of his arm and locked eyes with Walters, shaking her head almost imperceptibly. Freezing, he kept eye contact, a light sheen of sweat glistening on his pale face.