I want to go through the footage, but how do I do that with him sitting four feet away? What if he is our murderer and I see him poison Sailor and Emme and Nievaright thereon the screen? What if heseesme see it? We’re alone together in the dead of night.
This is what I’ve been thinking about for two hours.
I keep thinking maybe he’ll doze off, or use the facilities for more than just half a minute. Hasn’t happened yet.
“Lindley?” Zesi says, breaking our silence.
“Hmm?”
“Maybe it’s time you try Nashville?”
I’m surprised it took him this long to bring it up, honestly. I had hoped that if I just waited, I’d feel ready, but each passing hour has only served to heighten my nerves.
I glance at the clock, do quick math. “Isn’t it, like, four-morning there?”
If anyone can get through to Vonn’s fleet once it’s out of dark space, surely it would be Shapiro. I wouldn’t put it past Vonn to ignore even him, though—especially given what Vonn said in his last message, that he and Shapiro disagree about what’s going on here on the station. That Vonn’s taken it upon himself to go over his head to the rest of the board.
Even so, it makes sense to try.
I’m going to have to come clean about my lies at some point... I just hope I don’t accidentally flip things to Vonn’s favor in the process. What if my attempt to tell the truth backfires and makes Shapiro inclined to believe the enemy reallyhasinvaded our station? How am I supposed to prove I’m the actual daughter of Commander Linsey Hamilton, and not just an Antarctican looking for a way to hide her true identity?
Still. These are flimsy excuses and I know it.
“Okay, fine,” I say, tapping back into the private messageinbox, ignoring the piercing look Zesi’s giving me. It’s like his eyes are burning holes through my conscience. “You’re right. I’ll try that first.”
Even if itisfour-morning, Shapiro won’t want us to destroy each other. I put the call through before I can talk myself out of it. It rings, rings, rings—longer than usual, for sure. On the fifth ring, finally, someone picks up.
“Hello?” I say. “This is Commander Lin—”
“Julian Shapiro’s department,” interrupts the voice of what can only be an intern slapped with a string of graveyard shifts. She can’t be much older than I am, from the sound of it. Her voice is full of sleep. “Please state your clearance code?”
“This is Lindley Hamilton, daughter of—”
“Your clearance code, please?”
My heart beats in my throat. My only guess—the same code my mother used for the passcode to this private inbox—is definitely the wrong one. Clearance codes are an entirely different level of complicated, company-issued garbles of letters, numbers, and symbols meant to be unguessable and unbreakable; I know this because Dr. Safran made an offhand comment about it during our final day together, how he’d memorized the entire periodic table as an eleven-year-old and could teach me nearly anything I’d need to keep the station running.Just don’t ask what my clearance code is, he said.They change every year—started losing track after the first four. Never needed mine anyway, though, not once.Ask your mother for hers if you want to cover all your bases.
I wish I’d had the chance. His mind was slipping even then, because my mother was already long gone.
“I’m aboard the space stationLusca, and this is an emergency,” I say, my voice rising. “Could you please connect me with—”
“I’m sorry,” she says, not sounding the least bit sorry to keep cutting me off. “Due to a recent breach of security protocol, I cannot speak further or connect you unless you provide the correct clearance—”
I end the call.
Zesi lets out a long, loud exhale. “Well.”
It’s the beginning and the end of his commentary on the matter.
I should do something. I should do anything besides sitting here, staring at the message log like it could, at any minute, produce magic answers to all our problems. If only. I slip into the facilities, close myself inside its claustrophobic walls. Take my time. Put my head in my hands, wait for it to stop spinning.
We are alone up here, we are going to die, my best is not enough—and it never will be.
I’ve made a thousand mistakes.
The station deserves better.
Surely there is a way to salvage this. Surely we can make it four more days, until our shipment comes, without getting destroyed—or without destroying each other.
