Nora pursed her lips. “She said nothing to me. Nothing at all.”
The medics spoke with Holt, and he came over to Nora’s cell, keys jangling.
“What is wrong with you?” Zephyr asked, yelling again.
“You’re right.” Nora said, just as loudly. She nodded and stared at Holt as he unlocked her cell. “This does need to end. But I’ll be dead in a few weeks or months. And it will all end with me.”
Zephyr stepped away from the bars as the medics entered the cell and began to help Nora onto the stretcher. Era probably hadn’t said anything. The old woman sounded crazy—out of it from power core sickness or her meds.
The medics carried her off in a stretcher, and when they were gone, Zephyr dragged herself back to her bunk. She slid to the floor in front of it and rubbed her hands together to get the dried blood off.
Nothing made sense. She tried to stay calm and focused on taking even breaths, but something tugged at her, preventing her from numbing her chaotic emotions again.
Her father always said that if you let your emotions get in the way, you’d never survive life in the fleet. He said feelings were the reason accidents happened, the reason the deka riots and shortages happened. That when people felt too freely, they became a burden to the fleet.
But he was wrong. Sometimes emotions told you things your mind couldn’t. And her mind was telling her not to numb herself, that her emotions had something important to say. So she let them wash over her, and she sat with the burning pain and let it take her.
And for the first time since yesterday, since the awful moment Tadeo said Era killed herself, Zephyr’s mind cleared, even while her heart ached. Each moment in the past three days crystallized in her mind—sharply outlining the shape of all that had come before.
Everyone was wrong about Era’s death. It made perfect sense for her to kill herself, but Zephyr knew Era, and she wouldn’t just do that.
Had Medic Faust been delirious from the meds?
There are things in this fleet people would kill for… and die for.
Zephyr remembered the night Era died—each moment as it had played out, despite how fresh the pain was.
After they got the news that Dritan had died in the cave-in, Era had been hysterical. But she’d been trying to speak through her sobs. Her pain had broken Zephyr—she’d wanted to make it go away—so she’d forced Era to swallow the grimp.
What had Era been trying so hard to tell her?
Zephyr closed her eyes. Era had said something about the defect… that it was a lie. She’d said something about treason, too. Maybe she’d been talking about the hull breach, about the traitor who’d tried to kill Tesmee. Zephyr had assumed Era was losing it, saying nonsensical things.
Then the grimp took hold, and Era had fallen asleep before explaining what she meant.
Something wasn’t right about any of this. But what? What had really happened that night? When had Era awoken and decided to take her own life?
Zephyr gasped and sat up straight, clenching her sticky hands into tight fists.
Era had said something else between her sobs. “I recorded the truth. Hid it.”
“She tried to tell me,” Zephyr whispered. “But I wouldn’t listen.”
Zephyr covered her mouth, inhaling the coppery-salt-scent of dried blood, and leaned back against the bench. The hard edge of it cut into her scalp, and her eyes watered. What truth had Era hidden? It seemed absurd—Era had shared everything with Zephyr, hadn’t she?
She said she’d recorded something and hidden it. Was she hysterical, or did a recording really exist somewhere? And could it hold the answer to why she’d committed suicide?
Zephyr wiped the tears from her eyes and leaned forward, staring through the bars of her prison.
If Era had hidden a last message somewhere, Zephyr was going to find it.
By the time Tadeo reached stairwell C, guards were already pouring out, filling up the corridor. He caught sight of Omar and Kiva in the press, as the squads lined up on both sides of the corridor, hands on their weapons.
Nicolas Gonzalez, Jonathan Lau, Farida Mittal, and the families came out next. They had metal cases with them, and their faces were drawn with fear. Tomas came with his wife and daughter next, a scowl on his face, and Nassef and his family followed.
The president was the last to exit, flanking Tesmee on one side with the chief on the other.
Tadeo edged around the board to get to the chief and president.
“Chief!”
Chief’s brow furrowed, and he paused in the orders he was giving to the squad.
“Say it quick. What is it?”
“I found something in the data,” Tadeo said, keeping his voice low.
“What did you find?”
“I think the bomb might be in the power core.”
Nyssa gasped and pulled Tesmee closer.
Chief’s nostrils flared. “Why do you think that?”
“Tatiana Carizo spent a lot of time in a cubic close to the power core. And the morning after the hull breach—she left work to go there. I don’t know if she met someone, but—”
“That doesn’t mean the bomb’s in the power core,” Chief said, irritated. “It’s impossible to get anywhere near it without access. The terrorists had none.”
“But what if they did? What if they have someone working with them—on the inside?”
Nyssa stepped closer. “No, everyone’s clean. There are strict regulations about who works down there.”
“I need to look into it,” Tadeo said. “Tatiana worked the power core on the Meso before she transferred here. She knew all the safeguards, all the protocols, all about the regulations. Maybe someone in the power core helped the terrorists. I don’t know, but if you wanted to take out a ship, wouldn’t that be the best place to put a bomb?”
Nyssa shook her head and squeezed Tesmee’s arm. “The terrorists would have died with us.”
“What if this was their plan if the hull breach failed?”
The chief shook his head and cast a glance at the board members, who were trying to listen in. “We need to get them out of here.”
Blood rushed in Tadeo’s head. “Just let me take a few men down there to question the power core workers.”
Chief nodded and glanced down the corridor, clearly eager to move. “Take them. I need to get these people to safety. If you find anything, comm me.”
Tadeo grabbed Kiva, Omar, and two others and led them back into the stairwell.
“What’s going on, sir?” Kiva asked.
“We think the bomb might be in the power core.”
Kiva gasped and went pale. The others, including Omar, looked stricken, sick.
“I think someone in the power core could’ve been working with one of the terrorists,” Tadeo said, rushing to get the words out. “Be on the lookout for suspicious behavior while we’re questioning the workers.”
“Yes, sir,” they said in unison. All of them wiped the fear from their faces and stood taller.
“Let’s go.”
∞ ∞
Tadeo raced through the corridors of P2, his veins pulsing with fresh adrenaline, his guards at his back.
The hum of the power core grew as they neared it, and Tadeo fought back memories of Era—and the airlock. They were heading toward it, but when they reached the final corridor, they turned left, away from it, and Tadeo felt the pressure in his chest ease up. All that mattered right now was finding the explosives. He hoped he was wrong about all of this—that Tatiana’d had some other reason for coming down here.
Another few minutes brought them to the main power core entrance. Tadeo didn’t have access here. The chief did. So did the board members and a few trusted sublevel workers. Could one of them be a terrorist?
Tadeo scanned his shift card at the cubic adjacent to the massive doors. The cubic door opened, revealing two men and a woman sitting at a table. The woman jumped up, holding a tray, and tried to conceal it behind her back.
It was food brought down illegally from the galley.
“Who’s in charge here?” Tadeo shouted to compete with the hum of the power core.
The oldest man stood up and came to the door. Light scars crisscrossed his face, and his shaved head made him look older than he probably was. “I am,” he said.
“And you are?”
“Sorry, sir. I’m Gavin Lanar.”
“Lanar, I have some questions for you. Clear the room.”
Lanar gestured to the other two, and the woman sheepishly dropped the tray back onto the table and exited the cubic with the man.
Tadeo pulled Omar and Kiva aside. “Watch them. See how those two act. Don’t let them go anywhere.”
Then he went into the cubic and shut the door behind him. “Sit down, Lanar.”
“What is this about, sir? I already reported in and said there won’t be another power outage—I got more guys coming down to help fix the generator tonight. We finally got the parts…” He trailed off at whatever look was on Tadeo’s face.
“Terrorists may have planted explosives somewhere in or around the power core,” Tadeo said.
Lanar’s jaw dropped, and Tadeo studied him. He seemed to be genuinely shocked. “That’s impossible. We’re the only ones with access. But even if there were explosives, it would take a lot to blow through that hull. A lot.”
“A lot like a combination of Artex and Zenith?”
Lanar’s face went ashen. “Yes.”
Tadeo leaned over the table, getting close to Lanar’s face. “One of the terrorists smuggled Artex and Zenith onto this ship. If someone wanted to blow up the power core, where would they place the explosives?”
Lanar swallowed and shook his head. “The plasma field is encapsulated. You can’t just blow it up, or even get near it. You’d have to place a charge right up against it, and the only things touching that hull are…”
“Are what?”
“The power cell inserts.”
A thrill ran through Tadeo, and he began to pace the small cubic. The inserts again. It meant something.
“What are they used for?”
Lanar blinked and rubbed a hand over his shaved head. “They cover the outside hull. Our generators use them to draw power from the core.”
“How many inserts are there?”
“Over eight thousand. One hundred cells per generator.”
Eight thousand. It’d take days or weeks to check them all. “Could someone place explosives inside the insert?”
“Maybe, but… It gets nearly hot enough in there to melt the insert itself.”
Heat activated Zenith. Tadeo grunted, frustrated. If the power cell inserts got that hot, there couldn’t be explosives hidden there. The Zenith would have activated shortly after it was put in place, and it would have exploded already.
The power outages. Tadeo sucked in a breath and pounded his fist against the table, rattling the half-empty tray. “What’s been causing the outages?”
Lanar’s brow creased. “One of our generators is down. Every time the ship hits a certain power threshold, it causes a black-out, and we have to reboot everything.”
“You said the generators draw power from the core through the inserts.”
“Right.”
“So the section with the bad generator is dead then?”
“Yes.”
“If it’s dead… how hot do the inserts get?”
Lanar’s mouth dropped, and his eyes widened. “It’s cold. The inserts in that section aren’t functioning. They won’t conduct power till that generator gets fixed.”
“So if they were hidden there…” Tadeo’s chest expanded, and a high sensation, excitement, ran through him. “They wouldn’t have been triggered yet. We need to remove every one of those inserts.”
Lanar stood up. “We can, but one problem. We have to use welding gear to get them out.”
“Was welding gear used to install each one?”
“Yes.”
Tadeo paused, thinking. It had to be done. If they’d used welding gear to install it, and the Zenith hadn’t activated, they had to be able to get them out again. But if the explosives were in the core, who had put them there?
Tadeo narrowed his eyes at Lanar and studied him for a moment. “We’re coming in with you.”
Lanar led them a few doors down, into a large changing area lined with three radiation protection suits.
Lanar pointed along the far wall to another door. “We have extras in storage. Wes and Cind, show them how to gear up.”
Tadeo looked at the other two power core workers as they led his guards to storage. One man, one woman. The woman, Cind, was even older than Lanar, with a serious expression and wary eyes. And Wes, slightly younger than Lanar with the same scars crisscrossing his face and arms, looked even more nervous than Cind and Lanar.
These were the kind of subs who worked years to prove their worth and loyalty before gaining access to an area as sensitive as the power core. If he’d met them under any other circumstance, he’d have taken them for the most loyal of colonists. If they were terrorists, they’d done a good job hiding it from everyone. But so had Tatiana.
Unless his mother knew what Tatiana was. Unless his mother had sent explosives to her for this very purpose.
Tadeo clenched his jaw tight. His mother had nothing to do with this plot. She wouldn’t put an entire ship in danger. She wouldn’t put him in danger like this.
“Lanar—how many power core workers are there?”
“Sixteen. Normally just three at night.”
Tadeo nodded. So these three could be loyal. They’d have to question the rest.
Lanar began to pull one of the bulky suits over his maintenance suit.
“That one should fit you,” Lanar said, gesturing to the suit on the hook beside it. “Belonged to one of ours who just came down with the sickness.”
Tadeo stepped into the bulky suit. “Space gear,” he said, half to himself. He’d never worn space gear, never had to. The suit weighed at least thirty pounds. A few plump liquid oxygen packs lined the collar.
“Modified space gear for the radiation in there. Those packs will feed oxygen continually into your helmet for up to twelve hours in the core sector.” Lanar pointed. “Helmet’s shatterproof. Impermeable. The air gets toxic. And you don’t want to leave your work belt or the comcuff on. The suit won’t go on right. You can attach the helio and your shift card to the loops here,” he said, pointing to the waist.
“How do you communicate in the power core? Isn’t it too loud?”
“There are local comms in the helmets. They activate when you speak,” he said. “Everyone with a suit will hear you.”
Tadeo reluctantly pulled off his work belt, comcuff, and pulse gun and placed them on the metal bench. He’d have to leave one of the guards to watch the guns.
He finished zipping up his suit as his guard and the other workers came out of storage, fully geared up in the thick padded anti-radiation suits. They hadn’t yet put on the helmets.
Kiva held everyone’s work belt and holsters in her arms, and she and Omar came over to Tadeo.
“Lieutenant, can we have a word?” Kiva asked.
Tadeo stepped off to the side, and everyone pretended not to be watching or listening.
“The man,” Omar said, his voice a rough whisper. “He’s nervous—sweating. We gotta keep an eye on him.”
“Alright,” Tadeo said, forcing himself not to look in Wes’s direction. “I’ll watch him. Kiva, stay behind and guard the guns.”
“But—”
“I trust you to do it. And comm Chief. Tell him we’re searching the power cell inserts. And then I want you to comm me through the helmet comm the second Chief says the president and board are away.”
Tadeo pulled his helmet over his head and secured it to his suit. Everyone else did the same, and Tadeo led his squad, only three strong now, including Omar, into the corridor. The subs followed.
“Can you all hear
me?” Tadeo asked.
A chorus of “Yes, sirs” came back at him.
“There may be a bomb in the power core.” Tadeo looked directly at Wes, then Cind to see how they reacted to his words. They both looked very afraid. Tadeo cleared his throat. “Specifically, there may be explosives hidden within the power core inserts on the outer layer of the hull. We have one hundred power core inserts to search. We’re looking for a clear plasstex container filled with a black powder mixed with white crystals. Each of my guards will work with one worker as we search. A welding tool must be used to remove the inserts, but we have to be extremely cautious. Heating the explosives could cause them to detonate. I’m hoping we find nothing… but if we do find something, leave it right where it is. We have to call Chief Petroff. This entire ship could blow if we fuck this up.”
Another chorus of “Yes, sirs” rang through his helmet, weaker this time. Faces filled with fear stared back at him from behind glasstex headgear. His guards fought to contain it, but this time, hiding it was impossible. Wes looked gray beneath his helmet, sweat beading on his brow.
Adrenaline coursed through Tadeo, making his pulse speed up. He gestured to Lanar. “We’re ready to go in.”
Lanar scanned his card, and the thick metal doors creaked open, slow and heavy. Heat rushed out at them as they stepped onto the core platform, and the doors closed behind them. The hum was deafening in this massive space.
Tadeo had never been allowed in here. Not with the threat of accelerating power core sickness.
Lume bars ran the length of the walls and ceiling, illuminating the space. He had to strain his neck to look up to the top of the power core. The metal curved away from them, the only hint that if he could see the entire thing at once he’d be seeing a giant metal globe. Like a helio whose glow no one would ever see. The plasma inside must look like a sun. It contained enough energy to last for hundreds of years—until the fleet reached New Earth. Unless someone blew a hole through the metal. If a bomb was here, it would definitely blow apart this entire ship.
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