His grip is tight when he tugs, pulling me closer. I let out a horrified scream and try to grab on to boxes, but he’s too strong. I slide towards him, packets falling around me.
I can feel his breath, hot against the inside of my knee.
I kick out with my foot and connect with something solid. He grunts, his grip loosening. I do it again before he can stop me. I can feel something wet on my toes.
I dive backwards, twisting to push my way through the fallen packets along the side of the wall. At any moment I expect to feel his hands on me again.
He yells, furious. It sounds far enough away that I risk looking over my shoulder.
J is stuck. The gap is too small for him. He can’t follow me.
He’s knocking packets out of the way, trying to clear a larger passage, but he’s too big. His torso barely fits.
I stop and watch him from ten metres away, half-hidden behind a large box of machinery.
He notices me looking and stops as well. His mouth, teeth bared in fury as he fights his way to me, transitions into a charming smile.
“Can you help me? I think I’m stuck.”
He waves his free hand at me. I slide back another metre, peeking around the corner at him.
“No.” The words come out in a whisper.
“No?” he says, feigning confusion.
“I’m not stupid,” I tell him. My voice is a little stronger this time.
J stares at me, and then smiles again, flashing white teeth. He wipes away the blood under his nostrils, from where I kicked him.
“I know you’re not stupid, Romy. I think you’re very clever.”
I wince. “Stop lying to me,” I say, spitting out the words.
At that, his bright blue eyes actually look surprised. He shifts. The packets around him skid, but he’s not trying to chase me any more. He’s settling in to talk.
“Why do you think I’m lying to you?”
“How can you do this to me? I thought we were friends!” I can feel hot tears welling up in the corners of my eyes. I hope he can’t see them at this distance.
“What am I doing to you?” he asks, his voice achingly gentle.
“You’re … you’re … stalking me. I know you made up the UPR. And the war.” My voice is shrill and wavering. I sound like the child he pretends I am.
“You’ve got it all wrong, Romy. Why don’t you come here and I’ll explain everything? You can trust me. You know me better than anyone.”
I slide back another metre until I can only see the light from his torch and the shadows he casts on the floor as he tries to move. He’s quiet, listening to my breathing.
“Nothing you can say will make me trust you. I’d rather die,” I whisper, and then slide back, far away from him.
He starts fighting against the packets again. The vibrations make the stacks around me tremble.
He can’t get through. There are too many boxes, too densely packed, and I’m too fast. Eventually he gives up.
“I have a heat sensor,” he yells. “You can’t avoid me for ever! Stop acting like a child and come and talk!”
The words stun me. A heat sensor. That’s how he found me so quickly. He knew where I was this whole time.
He was toying with me. Again.
I move faster – in case it’s a trick, or he’s crawling across the stores to cut me off somewhere else. I only stop when my arm hits something that won’t shift.
I freeze, wishing I had light. When I check my arm for an injury, the only fresh blood on me is J’s, drying in the cracks of the soles of my feet.
I carefully reach out and touch whatever I hit. It’s the rung of a ladder. It’s a way out.
I don’t bother being quiet – there’s no point, not if he can find me so easily. I start climbing downwards, even though I don’t know where I’m going. I thought I knew every centimetre of my ship, but I can’t remember where on the ground level this ladder comes out.
I’ve been climbing for a few minutes when my stomach twists over and my feet lift out from under me mid-step. Suddenly I’m falling, colliding with the walls of the shaft on the way down. Something’s happened to the artificial gravity.
There’s no time to think. I scramble for a rung and twist to the side, trying to catch on to the ladder, but I’m moving too fast.
I brace myself to hit the floor with a painful and bloody crunch.
Just as I’m really starting to panic, I crash into the base of the shaft, the impact jolting through my knee joints.
I catch my breath, trying to calm my panic. The shaft wasn’t deep enough to hurt me. I’m OK.
What’s going on? Are the rotation thrusters that control the artificial gravity failing? Or has J done this too? Is he messing with my ship again in an attempt to hurt me?
All he would have to do is adjust the speed at which the ship is rotating. That would change the force of the gravity it generates. To make it heavier, he must have sped up the ship’s spinning.
I don’t have time to worry about it now. J could push his way through the stores and follow me at any second. I can’t let him find me. I start moving, fighting against the force of the new, heavier artificial gravity.
When the shaft’s lights flicker off, I don’t even stop moving. I pull the torch out of my pocket, where I always keep it, and clip it to my belt. My teeth are chattering. It’s hard to move, and my limbs are slow to react, like I’m wading through treacle.
I reach down to push open the metal hatch, holding on tightly in case the gravity changes again. The lights flash on and off, strobing across my vision. I feel drunk, unsure which direction is up or down.
I shine my torch down into the room below. The dim glow of the blue standby lights turn to white, activated by my motion. Suddenly, I realize where I am. There’s a reason I’ve never come across this ladder before – it leads into the sick bay.
For a second I debate returning to the shaft. I’m caught between finally facing the room or going back to J.
When the lights turn off again and don’t come back on, I make my decision. I climb down into the room. Whatever is waiting for me in here is nothing like what’s above.
My gaze is drawn to the table where I once found Dad’s remains. The pods still line the room like hollow gravestones. I count from the doorway, finding the one containing my mother.
Now that I’m here, I need to know more than anything: is she still alive? Or does the pod contain a frozen corpse?
All thoughts of J leave my mind. This is the fear that has consumed me for nearly six years.
I can see the dark shape of my mother’s head through the misted glass window. I touch the pod, resting my fingertips where her eyes should be. I hate her for what she did to us. But I also miss her so much it hurts. She’s still my mother.
I drop my forehead to the glass, aching to see inside but too scared to look. My other hand touches the side of the pod, wrapping around the machine like I’m hugging her.
To my surprise, it’s warm.