Panya pushed his head forward with her gun. “I said I don’t want to argue anymore.”

Malachi’s hands were moving at his sides, his head swaying minutely: he was looking around, he was going to do something, he was going to try to get away, and if he did, Panya would fire. He might not believe her, but I knew she was not bluffing. Panya was always sincere. I could not let Malachi die because of my mistakes.

I released the seal of my helmet and tugged it off. The bitterly cold air was like a slap in the face. Beneath the outer suit, the thin fabric of the SPEC uniform was soaked through with my sweat. I began shivering at once. I felt naked and vulnerable, stripped down to the stolen uniform with nothing on my hands, nothing on my head, only socks on my feet. Malachi followed my lead, shedding his emergency suit as well.

Dag gathered up the suits and helmets and boots. Panya took one of the helmets from him and aimed the open neck toward us.

“I wish you had not forced me to be the one to decide your punishment, Zahra,” Panya said. Her voice carried through the helmet’s speaker, small and distorted. “I never wanted to carry this burden. I know it will pain me for a long time.”

Dag shut the door to the laboratory as they left. The lock engaged with a solid metallic thunk that made me jump. I spun toward Malachi. His eyes were wide, his gaze darting and quick, and he was looking all around the room, at all the controls, all the panels, every corner and wall. His breath misted a cloud with every exhale. I wanted to apologize. I could not speak. I hated to breathe, hated to think I might be drawing the virus into my lungs. My jaw ached with the effort of keeping my teeth from chattering.

On the other side of the window, Panya and Dag spoke to each other in the dim red light. Dag gestured, and Panya hesitated, then nodded. Dag tapped a few commands into the panel.

The light in the laboratory faded abruptly, deep dormancy red giving way to darkness. When the light returned, the outer room was empty and the door to the corridor was closed. They had left us.

Malachi said, “We should—”

Before he could say what we should do, an alarm wailed, so loud I winced and slapped my hands over my ears. The careless motion sent me into a slow spin. I flung one hand out to stop myself and caught one of the probe’s metal support struts. The red light gave way to a brilliant, blinding white. There was a brief silence.

I asked, “What is that?”