I BEAT A hand on the door to block sixty-eight. Two dull thuds and I catch myself. I’m not thinking; I’m cold and aching and should be back in my bunk. I glare at the door and work my left hand. I didn’t hit hard, but it’s throbbing just as badly as the other one now. My NorCol-issue gloves are only thick enough to keep the feeling in my fingers, even if there are times when I’d rather they were numb.

I don’t know how well I thought they were going to do against the steel door. There isn’t much that would. I could have brought my sidearm, done the knocking with half a magazine, and the hatch probably wouldn’t have noticed. Even if there was some way to break through it, there’s another door just like it on the other side, air-gapped and insulated, to keep crashing shells and accidental discharge from making it out of the block. Behind them are two more before you’re anywhere near Hail’s bunk.

I rest my fist against the hatch, and my head against the fist. It’s no good. I could get the Juno out here and have it knock, and Hail would still only know it through the rumble in the floor.

I head back across the narrow platform and lean against the railing, hands in my pockets. The coat doesn’t add much more than the gloves do, but the pressure helps the ache.

I should be back in my fucking bunk, but I can’t seem to make myself move, so I listen to the sounds of Hangar D. There’s a rush of air between the blocks, updrafts and cyclones trapped by strange geometry. The halide stars are dim for the sleep-cycle—we’re closer to tomorrow than to yesterday—but this place is still alive. Drones whir and chatter in the air currents, monorails whistle, hangar blocks flicker and strobe like distant skyscrapers.

Get back to your bunk, Rook. At least get out of the cold.

Something. Anything.

Standing here won’t do you any good. No more than kicking Hail’s door down, if that was even possible. What would you do on the other side? She’ll be dead asleep, and probably none too happy to have an angry jockey on her doorstep, demanding answers to questions I’m not sure I know myself.

I don’t even know where to start.