The air in the corridor was dry, Cenn felt like she was breathing through a paper bag. She thought maybe those strange vines back in the hangar had made a difference.

  How could this happen again, she wondered. Back in the arms of another conflict she couldn’t control. Despite her best effort, Erin ended up just another dead pilot. If her goal was to keep him out of the war, then what had she been thinking signing him up for this?

  And Joyce—the woman had no interest in this business. Cenn spent years convincing her to become her team’s solicitor. She wished she would’ve just left everyone she cared about alone.

  Her anger was beginning to make her jaw hurt, as she ground her grief to dust. But she was still here—wherever here actually is….

  The echoes of their footfalls disoriented her. The corridor they took at the end of the hangar was only two meters wide, yet sound seemed to travel miles before folding back to her ears, almost like something was stalking them. Motion-sensor lights—same as in the hangar—lit a strip a little ways ahead and behind but everything else remained shadowed.

  Suraj—Blockhead, as Daiko called him—paused and threw out a hand, nearly clipping her mouth. She had a compulsion to bite his thumb off, then noticed he’d found another keypad on the wall. They’d stopped at the other doors with pads like this one, but so far none had opened. If not for her own curiosity—and Roman’s who hovered like a hawk behind Suraj—she’d have left him behind.

  Suraj was likely still trying to fulfill the duty assigned to him, like a good little Bravista. Cenn never liked them—always showing up to your command tent and claiming jurisdiction, or nabbing a person of interest under your custody without anyone knowing. Well, if the man wants to be responsible, fine. He’s got a helluva lot to account for. Though, she had to admit, the Orden de Bravistas were far more hospitable then the Carmesi Vanguardia. Those would just kill you with complete impunity if you got in their way.

  “Looks like you don’t have clearance here either,” Roman said, not trying to hide his satisfaction in the slightest.

  Blockhead didn’t react. Either he didn’t hear him, or didn’t care a bit what they thought.

  “So,” Cenn said, “did this door open for you before too?”

  Silence, but she could almost feel his huge brain churning.

  Val tapped Suraj’s shoulder and slipped around his bulk as he turned to look at her.

  “The code you have, it was given to you by the captain?” she said.

  “Yes.”

  Cenn watched her type it in, enjoying Suraj’s sullen glare as he wondered how she could’ve seen him type it in. Val could be sneaky when she wanted to.

  “Assuming cryo didn’t scramble your memory—and that you’re even at the right door—it could be the code’s been changed, or there’s a hard lock in place.”

  “Hard lock.” Murphy said, “For emergency landings.”

  “Or someone on the flight deck didn’t want us getting in.” Cenn said.

  “Or, space itself is on the other side. We should leave it alone,” Roman said. “What are you looking for anyway?”

  Murphy rapped the door like he was searching for a wall stud. “Your employer, for starters. Other survivors.” He knocked again, to listen pausing to look at Roman. “What do you think I’m looking for?”

  “Do you really think Daiko is alive? And more?” Val asked.

  “We’re here, aren’t we?” Murphy’s tone was flat but certain.

  Cenn froze, suddenly realizing something. “Your partner—Alex. He wasn’t in cryo.”

  “Alexi. And no, he wasn’t.”

  “Why wasn’t he in cryo?” Roman asked.

  Murphy turned slowly, his dark skin barely visible in the shadows, even with the bulbs lighting their path.

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  “He ran security the first half of the trip. Was supposed to switch with me when we docked at Mars. Looks like something happened.”

  “Security?” Roman nodded, taking in their surroundings, “stellar job he did.”

  “Ro,” Cenn warned.

  Suraj didn’t respond. He just kept down the corridor, not checking if they followed.

  Val gave Roman a shove, “don’t be an ass.”

  Roman’s eyes narrowed, but Cenn cut him off.

  “She’s right. I’m not thrilled to have him here either but you’re not making this easier for any of us.”

  “Oh, so I’m the only one picking a fight now?”

  She pointed two fingers at his face, then turned the fingers around to point at her eyes.

  “Bully the bully, but only when he’s actually being a bully. The man lost someone too.” She held her voice steady—barely. She lowered her voice and leaned closer. “What do you think is happening?”

  He tried shoving his hands into his pockets then realized there weren’t any in the cryosuit.

  “I have no idea.”

  “Guys,” Val said, “I know what’s happening.”

  They both looked at her with a severe look, then started down the hallway after Suraj.

  “This is crazy,” Cenn continued.

  “Ever have something like this happen when you were deployed?” Roman asked.

  “Waking up outside of expected cryo? Ghost stories, sure. Crew goes under, wakes up in another galaxy a thousand years later. They’re just stories though.”

  “How would you know?” Val asked, “If they disappeared for that long, and were that far away, who told the story?”

  “The bodies still had dead skin on them,” Roman said, “I don’t think we’ve been gone for a thousand years.”

  He turned and caught Cenn’s raised brows.

  “What? I’m Martian. You think I haven’t seen a dead body before?”

  Fair enough.

  The sound of a door sliding open drew their attention forward. Despite Roman’s prediction, there was no vacuum on the other side of this one—only a dim green glow. Suraj stepped through.

  “Let’s see what the man found,” Cenn said.

  The room was square with two rows of descending analog consoles facing a giant cracked screen across the far wall. The glow seeped from the screen’s fractured edges.

  “This isn’t the flight deck, is it?” Val said, “I hope not—the equipment’s ancient.”

  “It’s a control room,” Cenn said, angling for a look at what Suraj was doing, “ships are built with small nodes like this to access the system in case of a crash. Think of it like a utility closet.”

  Val dragged her finger across a console, collecting a thimble of dust. “Hope no one has allergies.”

  Suraj stood at a podium—the main console by the looks—hovering his hands above the keys but hadn’t touched anything yet.

  “Don’t blow us up,” her tone wasn’t too cruel. “What are you trying to do anyway?”

  “Logs. Recordings. Coms. Anything.”

  Val stepped beside him and blew across the console like a birthday cake. Cenn covered her face, suppressing a cough.

  “Do you mind?” Val said. Suraj obliged her space with the speed of a boulder.

  “That’s better. Let’s try this.” She pressed one button, but nothing happened. She tried another, still nothing. With an exaggerated sigh, she shrugged, then swept a hand across the board like a concert pianist before any one could stop her.

  “Don’t—” Murphy started, reaching for her hands. He paused as a heavy clank sounded beneath their feet, like a rail switch the size of a truck flipping over.

  A brief parade of lights rippled across the consoles, then died out. The dim glow spread across the screen more quickly, highlighting the crack that split corner to corner like lightning.

  “You’re welcome,” Val said.

  “I think you mean thank you,” Roman emerged from a service grate at the lower level.

  Murphy peeked over his monitor from the row below. “What did you do?”

  Roman feigned considering, then flat as a pan said, “Pushed a red button that said start.”

  “Look,” Cenn pointed, and they all turned toward the screen as several lines of text faded into view.

  Murphy took his place behind the podium again, blocking Val.

  “Maintenance. Communication. Transport…” Val read aloud. When Murphy clicked Maintenance, she added, “that can’t be good.”

  A dozen meters stretched across the screen, broken by the crack but still clear. Before she could even curse, a sound like wind rattled into the room from the hallway. Cenn turned to find the light from around the corner brightening, as something approached. The blaze reached the doorway, but no person was there, only a specter of light that poured into the room and danced on the consoles, circling them like a carousel.

  Suraj grabbed Roman by the suit collar.

  “I didn’t do anything!” Roman yelled, but Cenn could hardly hear him over the rattling wind.

  The lights suddenly stopped spinning, and instead began blinking, brighter each time they faded back into existence. Dots began to speckle Cenn’s vision, then she realized they weren’t afterimages at all. The light gathered above the console like liquid in a vase, swelling in size and radiance.

  Cenn shielded her eyes—and someone screamed.

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