The outer decks were filled with heavy industry. Refineries that, even during an attack from the nightmares, still rumbled and groaned with the imperatives of their operation. Fuel processing stations, where water was cracked into its component elements. Storage units packed to the brim with useful materials. And of course, the vast stacks of zero-g factories, where everything from medicines to machine guns was produced in quantities not only sufficient to satisfy the needs of Orsted’s resident population but also much of the larger UMCN fleet.

Empty as they were, the nether regions of the station gave Kira the creeps. Even there, the alarm sirens still wailed, and glowing arrows (smaller and dimmer than in the main part of the station) pointed the way to the nearest storm shelters. But no shelter could help her now. That much she’d admitted and accepted. The only safety she could count on was the isolation of deep space, and there too, the nightmares or the Jellies might find her.

They moved quickly, and after only a few minutes, Falconi said, “Here,” and pointed at a hallway that led rimward.

Kira recognized it as the same hallway they’d passed through during their arrival at Orsted.

With a sense of growing eagerness, she kicked her way along its crooked length. After everything that had happened on the station, returning to the Wallfish felt like returning home.

The pressure door to the loading dock slid open, and through the airlock at the far side, she saw …

Blackness.

Emptiness.

And perhaps a kilometer in the distance, the Wallfish rapidly shrinking in size, driven by a white plume of RCS thrusters.

7.

Falconi shouted. Not a word or a phrase, just a raw cry of anger and loss. As she heard it, Kira felt herself collapsing inward, surrendering to despair. She allowed the mask to slide off her face.

They’d lost. After all that, they’d—

Falconi jumped toward the airlock. He landed awkwardly and his breath ran out of him with an audible whoof, but he kept hold of the rungs next to the lock. Then he dragged himself across to the window and pressed his face against the sapphire wedge and stared after the Wallfish.

Kira looked away. She couldn’t bear to watch. Seeing him like that embarrassed her, as if she were intruding on something private. His grief was too open, too desperate.

“Ha!” said Falconi. “Gotcha! Oh yeah! Just caught her in time.” He turned and grinned at them with a wicked expression.

“Captain?” said Nielsen, floating over to join him.

He pointed out the window, and to her astonishment, Kira saw the Wallfish slow and reverse its course as it headed back toward the airlock.

“How did you manage that?” rumbled Hwa-jung.

Falconi tapped his blood-smeared temple. “Direct visual signal sent through my overlays. As long as the ship’s passive sensors are working, and as long as they’re in range and there’s a clear line of sight, they can’t be jammed. Not like radios or FTL broadcasts.”