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“People would be scared,” I said. I knew I was. I reached back to tighten my ponytail and continued. “But that’s normal.”

“We’re in a closed environment,” he said. “If something disturbing happens and you’re trapped, what do you do?”

“Panic.” The answer surfaced with immediate understanding, and I hated that. It was logical, but covering up information felt wrong.

“Exactly! We don’t want anyone to panic. What if someone else gets hurt? You wouldn’t want that, would you, Sam?”

“No, but—”

“We need more information before we can proceed,” he said. “That will help us understand how to approach this. If we run out there now saying someone died, with no facts, people will use their imaginations to fill in the blanks to the worst-case scenario, and that would be devastating.” He reached out to hug me and squashed me to his chest. “I’m sorry you had to see this. But I know you can handle it.”

He didn’t know jack shit about me.

“Miss Meadows has a point, Graham,” Stacy said, and I took the opportunity to worm out of his embrace.

“Mrs. Bennet?” he asked, taken aback.

“The deceased’s family. Computer, have the Lakewoods registered a complaint regarding Mrs. Lakewood’s absence?”

The robot to her right sprang to life again, and I took an automatic step back, still afraid it might kick me out of the room, not that it would necessarily be a bad thing, but I didn’t want that hunk of metal touching me. “No missing persons have been reported.”

Stacy tapped her lip with a long, scarlet fingernail. “That makes sense. She was divorced. Her daughters have separate quarters. They may not even be up yet.”

I pictured this woman’s daughters asleep in their rooms, not knowing their mother had been taken from them. A lump filled my throat, and I choked it back. “We have to tell them,” I whispered.

“Of course we do,” Stacy said, laying a hand on my shoulder. Apparently, everyone sensed I needed comforting. “But we have to be able to tell them precisely what happened. Don’t you think they deserve that?”

I looked into her muddy brown eyes, and all I could see was Mrs. Lakewood’s body. Somehow, knowing her name made it that much more real, more personal. I wondered what her first name was, but couldn’t bring myself to ask. I might start crying if I did, and I refused to demonstrate any more emotional weakness in front of these people.

“I’d want to know she’s gone,” I said, thinking of my mother’s letter and the constant worry that something would happen while I was stuck down here.

Stacy squeezed my shoulder, and I saw it in her eyes. She knew what I was thinking. Of course, she does, she is paying for the treatment. “Dr. Doyle,” she said without taking her gaze off me. “I want a cause of death, and I want it yesterday.”

I nodded, mostly because I didn’t trust myself to speak, and she smiled again. Why was it that it never reached her eyes? Was it just my feelings because of her family’s ridiculous power games? I backed away from her touch.

“We had best go review those tapes, Dr. Forbes,” I said.

“Let me know the moment you find anything,” Stacy said to Alyssa.

“Of course.” Finished with her scans and analysis, Alyssa steered me out of the med lab.

“Who are Mrs. Lakewood’s daughters?” I broke the silence when we arrived back in the office.

Alyssa glanced at me, frowning. “Fraternal twins, I think. She always had a picture on her desk.” Her voice shook.

I hadn’t realized she’d known the woman. “What did Mrs. Lakewood do?”

Alyssa sighed like she knew I was not going to let it drop. “She was the communications team lead. She designed the system-to-surface interface and the EDRP.”

“EDRP?”

“Emergency delivery and retrieval protocol. It’s a shuttle pod schedule. One comes down here every three weeks with supplies whether we’ve asked for it or not. It’s a fail-safe. If the com system fails us, then we still have contact the old-fashioned way if need be.”

“So, how do we communicate with the surface?” I asked, visions of communicating with my mother floating to mind.

“Internet only. Any communication not sent through the com station must have an approval code tacked on.”

“And who gives the approval code?” I asked.

Alyssa wrung her hands and turned pale again. “Marcy.”

“Marcy Lakewood?” I guessed. She nodded. “There has to be someone else.” I couldn’t prevent my voice from rising.

“Of course,” she said quickly. “The Bennets. They all have override authorization on everything here.”

Naturally. Unless they were blocked again, like Mason had been at the tubes.

Alyssa appeared relieved at my silence and began punching away at the computer and various screens, looking for footage that would tell us what happened to Mrs. Lakewood, while Nicole’s voice played in my head.

You can use him too.

Mason, the man I never wanted to see again, could use his override to let me talk to my mother.