“The froth.” She looks up at him. “It’s the same reason you’re here. The same reason Horizon is full of cons.”

“They don’t take time off of our sentences,” I say, “because they don’t have to. Not in this place.”

She nods. “Think about it. These things, these wardens, whatever they were—they contained the flood, and then they put it somewhere where every minute bought them a minute and a bit. Another few seconds to get old, to have a life before it found its way out again.” She breathes out, sinks a little as it leaves her. “And it worked.” She raps a knuckle on the side of her bucket. “Christs, I could really use some air.”

I think we all could. I draw breath to speak, to turn us around and get us somewhere with a sky, but Salt has something else on his mind.

“Why is it shaped like this?”

I look back at him. “Shaped like what? A cell?”

He shrugs, rolls those heavy plates. “This is where they put it. That’s what you said, right? The end of the all things, the angry god—whatever. Why put it in a box?” He nudges the chain with his boot. “What good are shackles when you’re trying to hold a flood?”

7.69

“It’s a metaphor,” I say, but I couldn’t tell you where it came from. “It wasn’t a real flood. It was the idea of one.”

He’s quick on the draw. “Ideas don’t drown you.”

“This one did.” I remember what it felt like—dropped out of sync, watching the Juno fighting for its mind. “Those two hollows on Horizon; imagine what would have happened if they’d passed it on. Better yet, if the ship itself had caught it. Every machine on board, everything from shells to life support, loaders, drones, exos and flight suits, every door and hatch and airlock—if you had to fight your way through that? What would you call that?” I’m shaking, trembling to a beat that doesn’t belong to me.

Come with me

to the bottom of the sea.

“I’d call it a flood.” I swallow. “I’d call it drowning.”

He reaches for me, tentative. Pulls back. “Rook, I—”

I wave him off. “I’m all right. I’m all right.” I don’t feel it, but the lie is close enough. “What I don’t understand is how Sigurd caught it. If it got out on its own, it couldn’t just drift. The currents would’ve carried it deeper in, closer to the fire. The company didn’t just trip over it, not in all these storms and interference.”

Salt looks back at the door. “You said it yourself: this place is rotten. Maybe there was a leak. Maybe some of the flood got out through the cracks.”