The thought of spreading the virus in a supply handoff hadn’t even occurred to me. If Vonn and everyone on Radix are still alive, business-as-usual, that means they never came in contact with CRW-0001 at all. We could infect everyone at the entire exca site if we spread it to one of their delivery people, kill a multitrillion-dollar endeavor just because we can’t stretch our food supply for another few weeks. As much as I dislike Vonn and his twisted way of getting the job done, there’s no denying his wealth of knowledge and experience. I may think him despicable, but it doesn’t mean I want him dead—to lose him could be disastrous for the future of humanity as a whole.
A wave of nausea slams into me as I realize: these convictions I’ve drawn all on my own are deeply rooted in the very samewhat’s best for everyoneideology I so despise—there’s no way we can jeopardize the space program en masse just becausewe’re having a crisis. And I don’t know which is worse: the fact that what’s best forusfalls on the wrong side of what’s best for everyone else... or the fact that it feels almost wrong to prioritize our own survival.
What would my mother have done? Surely she would have protected me, along with her team and their families, if it came down to it. She would’ve found some miraculous way to save everything and everyone all at once.
“What?” Leo says, nudging my knee. “What’s this look on your face?”
“We’re just going to have to work with what we have,” I say. “We could infect everyone on Radix, not justNautilus.” There has to be some way to save ourselves without jeopardizing the rest of the space team—without jeopardizing the future ofhumanity. Therehasto be.
“They could wear hazmats, though, right?” Leo says. “We could scrub the air in the delivery chamber, make sure it’s clean? It might be clean enough already—no one’s been in there since the last shipment.”
“I’ve never tried to scrub an entire chamber before,” Zesi says. “I’m not sure I’d be able to eliminate all traces of the virus, or if there’s any way to be sure our air-qual measuring systems are as precise as they’d need to be.”
“Like I said, though, it might be clean enough already. It could work.”
“But what if it doesn’t?” I counter. “Our entire station was compromised by a single delivery guy whose only contact waswith that chamber. We make the tiniest mistake, and they’re done. That’s a lot more life at stake than just our station, Nat.”
For once, she doesn’t argue. I feel no satisfaction at having the final word, though. This is a problem.
“So what do we tell Shapiro?” Haven asks.
The exhaustion is heavy in this room, sunken eyes on tired faces. I don’t know how we’re going to survive all of this, but I have to believe wecan. Under different circumstances, I would have no issue with telling Shapiro the truth in its entirety—but it’s only a matter of time before the board finds out we’re running the station on our own, and that’s where I get nervous. They’ve only ever acted in their own interests. Why would they act in ours now?
“We tell him only what’s necessary,” I say. “And it doesn’t all have to be true.”
20
ALONELY
I WAKE TO an empty room at nearly eight-morning, disoriented from the coffee and the stress and the late, late night. The fire isn’t on anymore—Leo must have turned it off after I fell asleep. He and Heath stayed with me after the others went home, played a game of cards near the window so I wouldn’t be alone. I insisted I wanted to be alone, of course, but they know me too well. What I say and what I mean don’t always align. They can almost always tell the difference.
I have a dull headache, the sort that comes from tucking too many thoughts away, and too many feelings. Water will help, I think. I hope. I fill my glass at our refrigerated dispenser, watch the water sparkle under the purple-white spotlight that turns on whenever it’s in use. It’s such a simple thing, that spotlight, but I’ve come to love it. It’s steady. It’s always been there, my whole life. If the light goes dark, I’ll just replace it with one of the hundred backup disks in our supply drawer, and how easy is that?Soeasy. Easy is nice right now.
The water helps, at least with clarity. Yesterday comes backin screaming color: if only all the problems, all the pressure, had evaporated overnight. I really should get going—I’ll need to get in touch with Shapiro before the next sixty-two minutes are up, and beyond that, I should probably deal with Natalin before her frustration spirals out of control. I’ve also been neglecting the lab for too long now already, and should really spend some time later poking and prodding at the failed test results Mila’s sample yielded. If I can approach the mutation from a different angle, somehow, maybe I can find a way to stop it before it claims its next victims. If we had a cure—or a vaccine—we could get supplies fromNautiluswithout fear of spreading incurable sickness.
Should, should, should.
I miss the freedom I had two months ago, when no one’s life depended on my ability to keep it together, or to keep up with all our rapidly multiplying issues and magically produce all the right answers at all the right times.
The pressure... is... a lot.
Despite feeling torn by the urgent need to fix everything, I force myself to slow down. Take deliberate sips of the water. Breathe deeply. I slip over to the window, where Heath and Leo left the playing cards stacked neatly on the floor. It’s been a while since I’ve actually played. Years, maybe. I pick up the deck, muscle memory working them into a bridge shuffle. The slap of card against card, the rush of air—it’s soothing, mindless. Something to break up the silence. I never deal them into a solitaire, never pause to see the mocking face of the jokerstaring back at me, or the royals, smug and smirking.
Three minutes of shuffling and I can’t take it anymore, can’t bear to sit still for a second longer. I set the deck down, faceup, and see the queen of clubs staring back at me. Her eyes are sad, almost, but sort of serene. I tuck her into my back pocket, a reminder that it’s okay to be still, even if I can’t be alone.
Alone: funny how you can feel that way while surrounded, constantly, by other people. How that sometimes makes the feeling even more pronounced.
Enough, I tell myself. Enough of this.
Time to do whatever I can to sort our issues out.
21
IT’S ONLY THE WEIGHT OF THE WORLD
I COME TO a sharp halt just outside Control, close my eyes, breathe, breathe.Shapiro will be happy to hear we’re alive, I tell myself.No need for nerves.
So why do I feel so anxious?
