I let out a startled yelp and released my grip on the handle, then grabbed for it when I realized I wasn’t anchored to anything. My body continued to turn, and I wrenched my shoulder trying to stop myself. I kicked at the wall to straighten my arm and caught my feet against the edge of the open hatch.

Malachi’s voice came over the radio: “Zahra? What’s going on?”

I took a steadying breath, then another. Dag was still in the airlock, his light shining directly at me. Even without seeing his face I knew his expression would be one of stolid disapproval; I should have let him clear the cargo bay before entering.

Carefully, carefully, I turned to look at the wall above the hatch.

“I’m fine.” My voice was shaky, so I said it again, more firmly. “I’m fine. I was startled.”

“By what?” Malachi asked.

“I’m not sure,” I said.

It was a lie. I knew what I had seen.

Boots. Legs. There was somebody above me.

I had thought I was ready for them, the dead who waited for us.

Four hundred and seventy-seven people had died aboard House of Wisdom. When I had tried to imagine them, I saw a medical bay filled to capacity, body bags bundled in neat stacks, storage rooms turned to morgues, faces hidden behind white sheets. I had dreamed about walking through gleaming, clean corridors, and all around me there were silent figures wrapped in white, with no features except indistinct shadows where their eyes should be. In my dream, I had reached out to them, to tell them they didn’t have to stay aboard the ship anymore, but every one had turned away.

I told no one of the dream. Fear, Adam often said, was more deadly than a virus. We had always known we would have to dispose of the dead to make House of Wisdom our home. Panya was planning a ceremony, something mournful and respectful, to prove to the people of Earth that we were not callous criminals.

I pulled myself along the wall, using a line of cargo clamps as a ladder. I was not going to flinch away. We had learned everything we could about the Zeffir-1 virus. We were vaccinated, we were trained, and we had come prepared with supplies for testing the air, cleansing the filtration system, detecting any active traces of the virus that lingered. The Pre-Collapse warlords who created Zeffir-1 had designed it to kill quickly and then spontaneously denature: cruelty and cowardly stealth were their goals. My mind was filled with knowledge about that hateful weapon.

“What is it?” Dag said.

His light grew brighter behind me as he came through the doorway, giving me an overlarge, distorted shadow. I climbed over the crates until I could see the corpse.