Uncertainty clung to everyone like sweat. They were afraid, Mina decided. Afraid to wonder aloud, to consider the worst case scenario: the man they once knew could not be trusted, that his elaborate plans were bygone machinations, as remote to their plight as this asteroid was from Dearth.

  Mina hunched over the work bench, scrutinizing her own judgement. Of course, she couldn’t trust herself to think rationally either—no one could.

  Erin…

  Mina caught a glance from Cenn, as though she’d spoken the name aloud, and turned away with something akin to disdain. Speaking of poor judgement.

  Two hours and still no word from Arthur.

  The moments leading up to his disappearance into the Razor had been out of control—everyone talking at once, ignoring common sense. Panic will kill you faster than anything else.

  Mina rubbed her temples, massaging her father’s adage from her mind.

  Roman claimed he spotted Arthur stepping onto the platform, but it was Mina who saw him approach the stairs. She’d thought he was only curious—maybe he was. Now he could be dead, and Mina felt…numb? No, not numb—muted, as if someone had turned the volume on her emotions all the way down. That quiet gave her clarity, something everyone else lacked.

  Suraj Murphy loomed to one side, circling like a dog herding cattle. Was he even thinking straight? Nope. A hundred years out of time and still chasing his mandate. There was honor and duty—and then there was stupidity.

  “Mina.”

  She jumped. As she steadied herself, she wondered how Roman—with his severe face and haunting demeanor—ever went unnoticed.

  “What do you think?” he said.

  She squinted, realizing she could just barely see through the man’s lips and the blackmouth—there, at the way back.

  “Think? About what?”

  “About Arthur,” he pointed a thumb behind him, confused. Had she missed something?

  “I don’t know, Roman. What do you think?”

  “Personally? I don’t think we should let Val hack into the system while he’s still in there.”

  Mina saw Val running her hand along the podium, searching for an access point, and jolted upright.

  “Val,” she said, stepping closer. “What are you doing?”

  “Going to find a breaker, then trip it. See if that unlocks any of the doors”

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  “We should talk about this. We don’t know what failsafes are in place.”

  “Well, we just talked about it,” she banged on the podium like a carpenter searching for a stud.

  Mina looked at Roman who shrugged.

  “Just stop for a minute, okay?” Mina asked.

  “You said, we had to get our boy out of there. Now you’re mad that I’m doing something about it?” She grabbed a screw driver nearby and tapped the podium thoughtfully.

  “We didn’t say that,” Roman said.

  “That’s what I heard.?” Val muttered, sliding the screwdriver into an invisible crease.

  Mina could feel Snake, Suraj, and Cenn closing in on their conversation. Trapped as they all were, their attention was easily diverted, like moths to flame.

  “I tried getting in earlier, remember?” Mina said. “When Arthur first went in. The thing locked us out.”

  She nodded to the projection hovering near the platform, a look of deep thinking plastered across its pixels. Had it always been that way? She caught the tail end of what Val was saying.

  “-leave him. We can’t.”

  “Thought this was a dream,” Cenn said.

  The screwdriver fell from Val’s sure hands as they shook. She flexed her fingers, trying to still them, then stood, rubbing them down her thighs like they needed drying.

  “Alright, you’ve convinced me. Probably a bad idea.”

  Despair flickered, just for a moment, behind Val’s eyes.

  “Hmmm.”

  The crew turned to the projection, whose face now seemed to collapse inward under the weight of thought. Mina glanced at Val again, but whatever she’d seen through the crack was already gone.

  “What is it?” Roman asked.

  The projection grunted—the sound so familiar it punched Mina in the gut.

  “Hello?” Roman waved his hand in front of it, but it continued to ignore him.

  “Alright, screw this,” Cenn said. “Val, do whatever it is you were about to do. Roman, you and I are tearing that door down.”

  It still didn’t react, even as they scattered—Snake collecting tools in Val’s wake and even Murphy began climbing the steps looking as though he may actually help. So why was she standing there doing nothing—staring into the eyes of her father’s ghost like she knew something they didn’t?

  As though rewarding her patience, his next words were audible, though his eyes were unfocused.

  “So be it.”

  The lights flickered across the hangar before going out. For the second time they were dropped into darkness and relieved by the lamps at the base of the Razor.

  A crack split the Razor’s hull down the front section, running along the entire length. Steam poured through the breach, warping the beams of light. The panels came to a halt with a thundering mechanical boom that echoed throughout the hangar—making her feel like they were at the center of a great storm cloud.

  There came a sound like a conveyor belt, and something rose from the steam—unnatural yet deliberate, like a vampire rising from its coffin.

  It was a meck. Double-jointed legs, tapered and taut, as nimble looking as they were strong. They carried a triangular chassis—broad in the shoulders, yet trim, almost elegant. Human-like arms jutted from either side below sharpened pauldrons, gauntlets flaring at the forearms. At the very top sat a bulwark, a storage bin for meckanists at work—

  Mina flinched as the mist cleared—it wasn’t a bulwark at all.

  Sitting above a reinforced neck was a kabuto-inspired helmet, framing glowing eyes and an upturned smile. A head?

  She turned toward the the projection, her confusion plain on her face.

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