I whip around like a woman possessed, nearly stumbling. “What?”
“Vee is on the passenger manifest, and that’s the first thing they’ll check. Whatever they’re looking for, it’s not him. The safest place for him is in his cabin.”
Her face is open and honest, her eyes fixed on me as she waits for a response. It takes everything in me not to react the way Iwant to. I want to scream. I want to kick something. She’s right and I fucking hate it. Being separated from Vee during this is as close to suffocating as I’ve ever been. But I can admit, with Tanisira’s calm gaze on me, that I want Vee with me not for his safety, but for my peace of mind.
For a moment so electric it feels like my body is lit up within, I wear the crushing weight of defeat: no matter what I do, I can’t seem to win against Dominik and his resources.
But then I think about my boy and his sweet face and the fact that Dominik wanted nothing to do with him. He has no right to do this, to make every battle an uphill one, to take from me the only thing that I’ve ever been sure of: that I am a good parent, that I am giving my child a good life.
My teeth are clenched. It takes real effort to relax my jaw. “Tell me what to do.”
Tanisira nods and her eyes shift away from me. “Kit, how long until the cruiser docks?”
“Just over an hour if we adjust our current speed to match their velocity. Or shall I activate station-keeping?” The AI’s soft tone is aggravating against the backdrop of my anxiety.
“No, adjust for velocity. Just enough so they can dock safely, but no more. They can inconvenience themselves.”
She glances at her patch. Fuck, anhour? That’s no time at all. My palms are slick with sweat, a nervous reaction I didn’t know I possessed before now.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask. I can’t put all the pieces of Tanisira together in my head. What is she hiding?
“Why wouldn’t I?” She says. “I told you I would help.”
Yes, but I didn’t expect her to mean to the very edge of legality. Apparently, Tanisira’s word is as good as concrete. I shake my head. This is a problem for later.
“Where?”
“The airlock.”
Somewhere in my past is a woman who made good decisions. Now that woman stands in the airlock of theMidas, sweat-slicked and on the verge of hyperventilating. All I can hear is the heavy panting of my breathing. Funnily enough, it doesn’t fog the helmet, and my brain latches onto that fact like it’s a lifesaver. Through the visor, I watch in stunned silence as Tanisira slips a small bud in her ear before turning sharp eyes on me. Her voice filters in through tiny speakers inside my helmet.
“Can you hear me?”
I don’t trust myself to talk, so I nod. She takes two steps forward in the same gravboots I now wear, the only thing that stops us from bouncing around the zero-gravity airlock. Even though it feels like walking through molasses, I’d much rather this than the weight of my 130 kilo EVA suit. I don’t think I can even deadlift a quarter of that. My spine would crumple like a paper straw.
“Marlowe,” Tanisira says in a tone that makes it clear this isn’t the first or even the second time she’s tried to get my attention.
I snap to. She dips her head so she can peer directly into my eyes. The visor is so clear that it poses no obstacle, and the streaks of gold around her pupil anchor me in place.
“You’re going to be fine.”
It takes some effort to move, but the stiffness of the suit is more of a hindrance than the boots themselves. Tanisira assured me that the equipment is only a grade below anything the international space stations use. My suit is apparently superflexible and sturdy. I can’t help but think that if this is classed asflexible, I could never be an astronaut, if I even passed the medical. Instinctively, I want to bend at the waist and put my hands on my knees, but the slightest movement cuts the oxygen from my lungs.
When Tanisira grips my arms, I can barely feel it. Like butterfly wings brushing against me, it might as well not be happening. But I can tell she wants me to say something, not just nod, not just stand here gormlessly staring around. But really, how can I do anything else? The airlock is so much smaller than I thought it would be; there’s just enough space for both of us, maybe one more person. The walls are not the same smooth, dark material as the rest of the ship—instead, they’re the same blinding white as the material I wear.
I wonder if that’s so one could see a tear easily.
Oh, that wasn’t a smart thing to think about. Images of holes in my suit begin to fly through my mind, followed by huge lumps of my skin and organs and all those viscera being sucked into the vacuum of space. I gag. Somehow, I manage not to vomit in my expensive helmet.
Tanisira swears under her breath once, twice, before ducking down to meet my eyes, which are darting around the place like ping-pong balls. “Tell me four things you can see, three things you can smell, two things you can hear, one thing you can taste.”
That’s what you tell people to do when they’re having a panic attack. Why—
Oh. I go to feel my heart, but the glove I’m wearing smacks into my padded chest. Right, won’t be able to feel it. Then I remember that a small screen attached to my right forearm displays all my vitals. I don’t get a chance to check it, though, because Tanisira grabs my arm, stopping it in its trajectory before pushing it back down to my side.
Yes, probably best I don’t do that, actually. I don’t know the healthy range for a heart rate, but I’m sure it’snotwhatever my pulse is currently doing. She repeats herself, and I try to focus on my surroundings. It takes me three attempts to speak—my mouth is sodry.
“I can see the locked hatch behind you,” I rasp. “The empty stand my suit was on. The anchor for the tether. The frown on your face.”
