The Darwin Elevator

Chapter Ten

Anchor Station

21.JAN.2283

At the main airlock on Red, Tania tried in vain to press the wrinkles out of her lab coat—a task made all the more difficult without gravity. At least she’d remembered to tie her hair back.

A series of mechanical thumps emanated from the large round door. Then the sound that followed would normally terrify her, or any Orbital: precious air escaping. The hiss lasted a few seconds as pressure equalized.

“The suspense is killing me,” Natalie said. She drifted at Tania’s left, wearing a simple white jumpsuit instead of her own lab coat.

“A few more seconds,” Tania replied. She’d pulled her assistant away from research to meet some “special guests.” The young woman had never met Neil Platz, or his affable brother, Zane, and Tania felt the time was right. Natalie could assist on the special project, something Neil had forbidden. If they’d met, became friends, perhaps he would change his mind. “I’m glad you could take the time to join me.”

“You let me out of the lab! I’m the one who’s happy.”

“I still expect you to finish the debris plots.”

Natalie grinned. “Slave driver.”

“Shush now.”

The airlock door pushed inward and rolled out of the way. Tania wondered if she should have prepared a more formal reception. Too late now.

Neil hovered in the junction tube, a sour look on his face. He wore a gray turtleneck and black slacks and held a briefcase in one hand.

Behind him, two others were waiting, neither of whom was the younger Platz brother, Zane.

Tania recognized one as Alex Warthen, security director and constant thorn in Neil’s side. The man rarely came to Anchor, and Tania considered that a blessing. She never understood the need for a security detail here, and she suspected most of her staff agreed.

“Welcome,” Tania said, “to Anchor Station.”

Neil cracked a broad smile. “Tania, always a pleasure.” He floated forward and shook her hand, as if they hardly knew each other.

She gestured toward her companion. “This is my lab assistant, Natalie Ammon.”

Neil bowed slightly toward her, his movements fluid and comfortable in null gravity. “Delighted,” he said.

“She’s a genius at data analysis,” Tania added. “Couldn’t do it without her.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself,” Neil said. “Have you met Alex Warthen, and Sofia Windon?”

“Alex, hello,” Tania said. The man only nodded. He’d visited the station a few times before but never mingled beyond his own security staff. Tania turned to the other guest. “Miss Windon, I’ve not had the pleasure.”

Sofia smiled, polite and nothing more, as she shook Tania’s hand.

The woman sat on the Orbital Council, but Tania struggled to remember details about her. Recently elected to her first term, if Tania recalled. A former member of the Australian senate. She was short and plump, and wore a brown business suit with a few visible patches. The black shoulder strap of a messenger bag ran diagonally across her chest. In the absence of gravity, she kept the bag pinned to her side with one elbow.

Few council members bothered to visit Anchor. The bulk of their constituents lived aboard stations at the Earth end of the cord. To travel the forty thousand kilometers out to Anchor just to visit a bunch of anachronistic scientists was an errand they seemed content to avoid. Only Neil, and occasionally his brother, Zane, made the effort.

“Sofia handles resource management,” Neil said. “You can thank her for the timely shipments of food, air, and water.”

“Nice to meet you,” Tania said. “I didn’t realize you’d be bringing guests, Neil.”

“Neither did I.”

Alex Warthen drifted forward, grasping a handhold to steady himself with expert ease. “A last-minute thing. We wanted a face-to-face with the team solving the power problem. The situation has taken a nasty turn.”

“More fluctuations?” Tania asked.

“Much worse than that,” Alex said. “A subhuman was found aboard Space-Ag Three.”

“What?” Natalie asked. “How?”

“Impossible,” Tania said over her.

“Not impossible, Miss Sharma. I’ve got two dead civilians who’d tell you that if they could.”

“Oh my God,” Natalie said, one hand covering her mouth.

Tania felt paralyzed. She’d heard talk of the outbreak in the halls, but no official word. Few among the station staff even believed the rumor. The Aura had never been anything but infallible; no one ever thought it could be otherwise.

“I want to brief my staff before news spreads,” Alex Warthen said. “This should be everyone’s top priority now.”

Unable to help herself, Tania looked at Neil. Her gaze settled on the briefcase in his hand, and the data cubes she hoped were within. She wondered if Neil would ask her to set the special project aside, given these events.

The timing of the news watered a strange seed of hope, deep within her. The Elevator faltering, a SUBS infection inside the Aura … all right when she and Neil decided to start looking for signs of another Builder ship. The coincidence was too great.

Neil ended the uncomfortable silence. “I’ll make the priority calls here, Alex—”

Sofia Windon interrupted him. “We’ll discuss this in due time. I must admit, Tania, despite everything the real reason I came is to see the Shell. May we do that, if it’s on the way?”

“Of course,” Tania said, “no problem. Follow me?”

Taking their silence as agreement, she turned and pushed herself into the curved corridor. Rungs attached to all four sides of the hall aided speed and trajectory.

She frowned at the station’s austere décor, a trait she’d never paid any thought to before. Visible pipes and ducts laced the walls, unpainted. Flat areas were used to store things in custom bins bolted to the surface. Little thought had been spent on the aesthetics. Compared to what she’d seen of Platz Station, it all seemed rather mundane.

Natalie nudged her.

“This is Storage,” Tania said to the group. “Or Red Level, as we call it. The central hall on each level has a different colored floor, since they tend to look alike. As you’ve seen, this one contains our primary airlock and docking bay, along with numerous supply rooms.”

“There’s also a cargo bay on Green, for backup purposes,” Natalie added. “Black Level, at the other end of the station, has one, too. But since the Elevator cord doesn’t extend there, it’s never used.”

Sofia asked, “This ring doesn’t rotate. Why?”

“It’s much easier to pack things in zero-g,” Tania said. “Easier to move supplies and maximize our space.”

“Yet the hall is curved?”

Neil cut in. “Reuse of manufacturing plans. It’s cheaper that way.”

The curt answer silenced her. Tania continued along the wide hall, curving ever upward. Large segmented doors spaced at regular intervals lined all four walls. Each door had a code stenciled on it.

“I’ll need to survey all this later,” Sofia said.

“Of course,” Tania replied. “It’s all in order, I’m sure.”

“The climber problem has everyone spooked,” Neil said. “Sofia has a mandate from the council to ensure all stations have ample reserves.”

“And,” Alex added, “that they are appropriately staffed.”

Tania caught a hint of venom in Alex’s tone.

“Don’t mind Alex,” Neil said. “He’s fretting over what to wear for his date with Russell Blackfield.”

“Someone has to talk to him,” Alex said.

“Children, please,” Sofia said. She frowned at Tania. “They were at it the whole way up here, like a couple of grade school brats.”

After a long series of storage rooms, they came to an open lift.

Tania waited at the entrance and ushered the guests inside. “Orient yourselves so the red floor is down.”

She entered last and pressed the control to take them to Green Level, via the central spine.

“Hold on to something, please,” she said.



The lift plodded along in relative silence, broken by the occasional lurch as it transferred from Red Level to the central spine, and then into the rotating portion of the station.

Gravity, or the illusion of it, increased the farther the lift moved away from the spine. Soon Tania stood on the floor, and she thought her guests looked much more comfortable.

She led them through the green-carpeted level quickly, passing only one group of researchers who were in a quiet conversation with a maintenance crew. When the workers realized that Neil Platz walked at her side, their responses varied from shy nods to awkward salutes.

Halfway around the long, sterile hall, they came to a series of thick glass doors. Three security guards manned a desk in front. They stood at attention at the sight of Alex Warthen.

Before Tania could speak, Alex approached the men. He greeted each of them by their first names. The guards were tense in their commander’s presence, a far cry from their usual relaxed demeanor.

“At ease,” Alex said. “I want the squad assembled for inspection in exactly fifteen minutes.”

The guards exchanged surprised looks.

“In the meantime,” he said, “we are taking Councilwoman Windon to see the Shell. I will personally escort them.”

“Yes, sir,” said the ranking member. He punched a series of codes into his console and the first set of transparent doors silently slid apart.

Tania led the group inside, where they waited as the first doors closed again. After a short pause, the second set opened. Beyond, a long, straight hallway led into the distance, illuminated at regular intervals by pools of dim white light.

They walked in silence until the halfway point, where they passed through an open bulkhead. “Halfway to White Level,” Tania said.

Sofia asked, “Why are these two levels so far apart?”

“Fear,” Neil Platz said, before Tania could open her mouth. “When we began construction here, to study the damn thing, everyone was worried it might explode. Or some such nonsense. So as we expanded we left a two-hundred-meter buffer on either side of White Level.”

At the end of the connecting hall they entered a utilitarian tunnel, replete with unpainted metal walls and exposed ductwork. “I expected white floors,” Sofia said.

“This was built first, more than twenty years ago,” Tania replied. “The coloring scheme came later.”

Sofia looked confused again. “Then why call it white?”

Tania shrugged. “Good question.”

Neil cleared his throat. “It was supposed to be eggshell, as in the shell ship, but everyone kept saying white.”

The level was cramped, haphazard compared to the others. The hallway jutted at right angles, around exposed ventilation shafts and bare metal pipes. Electrical panels graced the walls like paintings. The group’s footsteps clanged on a floor of steel grid tiles. Air flowed in through circular vents that hung from the ceiling.

Neil explained as they walked. “Platz Industries built Anchor Station to study the Elevator, and of course the remnant of the construction ship. A rush job at the beginning. We added on only later, when we realized all the other research that could be conducted with so much scientific activity centered here. The hub of it all, until the plague came.”

“What did you hope to learn here?” Sofia asked.

Neil paused in his tracks and turned to face her. He studied the woman’s face for a few seconds before answering. “How to build another space elevator. To replicate this incredible gift.”

Tania grinned at his enthusiasm.

“For your own profit,” Alex said.

Neil shrugged. “Of course. I was a businessman. Even now, it’s still a worthwhile pursuit.”

“We can barely keep this one running,” Alex said. “What the bloody hell would we do with another?”

Neil glared at the security director. “Double our rate of trade? Allow for some raw materials to flow once again? It’s essential that we continue our studies here.”

“We’re all looking forward to some actual results,” Alex said. “Maybe you’ll be done before this one fails completely.”

Tania saw Neil’s fists clench. In the uneasy quiet, she struggled to think of something to say. It had never occurred to her that Anchor Station’s purpose might be considered a waste of time, especially by a member of the Orbital Council. She wondered if others shared the view. A glance at Sofia Windon gave no hint of her opinion.

Natalie broke the silence. “The Shell is this way,” she said, then took a few steps toward the destination.

The natural cheer in her voice diffused the lingering tension and the moment passed. Tania walked toward her assistant and mouthed a silent thank-you to her. Natalie winked in response.

One by one, the others began to follow them.

At last they came upon a large room that resembled an auditorium. Numerous scientists sat at desks facing a bank of enormous screens on the far wall. Nestled in the center of the monitors were two large windows.

Outside, the remains of the Builder’s ship dominated the view.

The Shell, now hollow, had served as the hull of the machine that built the Elevator. To Tania the shiny, obsidian-colored object resembled the elongated tail of a wasp, on a massive scale.

Sofia, in naked awe, said nothing.

Tania couldn’t blame her. She recalled the first time she’d seen it. She’d been only ten years old at the time, and held Neil Platz’s hand as they stood at these windows. Neil had told her all about the ship, but Tania had heard none of it. She’d simply stared, overwhelmed.

“Why did they leave it behind?” the councilwoman asked after a long silence.

“As an anchor,” Tania said. “Hence Anchor Station. Literally, a counterweight for the Elevator cord.”

“I don’t follow you.”

“Sorry,” Tania said. “Imagine you’re holding a long piece of yarn, and you spin in place. What happens to the yarn? It trails and curves, and eventually wraps around you. But tie a small weight to the end and the yarn will pull straight as the weight tries to fly away from you.”

Sofia curled her lip and nodded.

A research team outfitted with thick space suits floated next to the shell. They worked to position a large piece of equipment against the surface. Gold foil and white insulation against the pure black vessel. The ship dwarfed their man-made device.

“One hundred and nineteen meters, tip to tip,” Natalie said.

“What are those people doing?” Sofia asked, pointing to the space walkers.

“I’m not exactly sure,” Tania replied. “My work is mostly in the observatory.”

A scientist at the window turned to them. “Electron aberration imaging. We’re compiling a more detailed surface map, at the atomic level.”

“What for?” Sofia asked.

“To understand the materials. This object survived a journey through interstellar space, unscathed and still functioning—”

“Could this activity,” Alex asked, “be what’s causing the power blips?”

The scientist hesitated. He looked to Tania. “I … it’s a passive scan. I don’t—”

“It’s unlikely,” Tania said. “The climbers get their power from the Elevator cord, which generates it from friction with the atmosphere.”

Alex jerked his head toward the Shell. “You’re so sure of what’s inside? Maybe it doesn’t like being probed.”

“The vessel is inert,” the scientist said, his voice jumping an octave. “We’ve been doing this for years.”

“Thank you, that’ll be all.” Neil glared at the man, who quickly returned to his work. “Our efforts may seem a waste to some, Sofia. But understanding how this got here, what it’s made of, and how the SUBS disease is put into stasis … these are all keys to freeing us from being trapped in its shadow. That’s why we study it. It’s shortsighted to think otherwise.”

Alex kept his hands clasped behind his back and stared out the window. “Care to explain that to those who died on Space-Ag Three this morning? We had a subhuman running loose in orbit, for God’s sake. The climbers are losing power on an almost daily basis!”

His voice, raised to a shout, brought the room to silence. Everyone stared at him, their work forgotten.

“That’s unfair,” Tania said. The words tumbled out before she could think to stop.

The security director glanced at her. “Is it?”

“We have an ample team looking into the power issues. A plan is being formed.”

“Oh, wonderful. A plan, you say?” Alex turned his gaze to Sofia Windon. “A full audit of Platz operations would prove how the staff is being allocated.”

“This,” Neil said, “is no time to debate council business.”

Tania decided to change the subject before the argument worsened. “Shall we move on to the observatory?”

“Wonderful idea,” Neil said.

“Make it quick,” Alex said. “I need to meet with my security staff.”

“Talk about a waste of resources,” Neil grumbled.



Black Level capped Anchor Station, making it the farthest human habitat from Earth.

Dim amber lights lined the main hall. Tania explained. “Red light has the least impact on night vision. Easier to see details when using the telescopes.”

“You have carpet up here,” Sofia noted.

Tania glanced down. She never thought about it. The red surface, irreplaceable now, had many worn patches. “It keeps noise to a minimum.”

“We should arrange a tour for the children,” Sofia said.

Tania smiled. Those on staff who had kids left them in the care of others on lower stations. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard a child’s laughter. “That would be delightful.”

“I’ll speak to our education director.”

Natalie tugged at Tania’s elbow. “I think I’ll get back to work,” she said. “If that’s all right?”

Tania caught the unspoken request—Natalie would rather return to her research than continue to tag along, which spoke volumes. Nat never missed an opportunity to get out of the lab. “Of course, dear. I can handle this.” She added a wink, which Natalie returned before waving to the others.

At the door to the observation lounge, Tania stopped and poked her head inside. On more than one occasion she’d surprised amorous couples in here, sharing the romantic view. Right now the room was, thankfully, empty. She led her guests inside.

Sofia sucked in a breath.

A twin pair of enormous geodesic windows dominated the walls to their left and right. One looked out into space, an impressive enough sight, and the one Tania preferred.

But the Earth-facing window caught the attention of newcomers. It never failed.

Sofia took a seat and folded her legs beneath her, eyes never leaving the grand view. Tania watched her with a twinge of jealousy. A life in orbit provided little chance to see anything new. She loved to watch the reaction of others when they first saw the Elevator from this angle.

Out the window, the tail end of the Shell dominated the view. And some forty thousand kilometers beyond that, Earth. The planet sat in full sunlight at this hour, a swirl of deep blue oceans and white clouds.

The other rings of Anchor Station encircled the derelict alien ship. As all the rings rotated in unison, they appeared to be at rest. Only Red Level, the ring that didn’t spin for gravity, had the illusion of motion.

A few transport shuttles drifted in the distance, yellow warning lights blinking. Both sped toward the next station down the Elevator, almost a thousand kilometers “below,” and used the Elevator cord as a guide wire.

“Thrilling,” Alex said. He stayed near the door. “Now may I go, mother hen?”

“Alex,” Sofia said, “take five minutes to relax and enjoy this. Honestly, you’re both too serious.”

“I’d rather get to work,” Alex said.

Neil snorted. “For once we agree.”

“Fine,” Sofia said. “Before you run off, Alex, can we at least come to some agreement on how we will address the climber failures?”

The security director shrugged. “As good a place as any,” he said. “Thanks for the tour, Miss Sharma. Could you give us a few minutes?”

“She can stay,” Neil said. Before Alex could object, he added, “She practically runs this station, and knows the staff better than anyone. If anyone can coordinate the investigative team, it’s her.”

A brief silence followed. Sofia broke it. “I’m okay with it if you are, Alex.”

Tania kept quiet and looked to Neil for any clues as to how he expected her to act. She wanted nothing more than to focus on their secret project, and she couldn’t help but glance at the square-edged bulge in Neil’s jacket pocket—a data cube case, she recognized.

Alex Warthen was staring at her, she realized. When she caught his gaze, he looked away and shrugged. “Whatever it takes to solve this.”

“Good,” Sofia said. “First, I think—”

An alarm cut her off.

The sudden noise wailed so loud that Tania covered her ears without thinking. Three long beeps, grating and obnoxious. It rolled through Black Level’s curved hallway.

A prerecorded voice came over the station address system.

“SECURITY TO GRAY LEVEL. SECURITY TO GRAY LEVEL.”

“The hell?” Neil said.

Tania glanced at him, then Alex Warthen. The security directory looked composed, his eyes cast upward as he listened to the address. Tania saw a small weapon in his right hand. A gun, drawn so quick and sure she hadn’t even seen him move. The weapon frightened her more than the alarm.

A series of dull clicks cascaded along the curved hall.

“What is that?! What’s happening?!” Sofia said.

“The doors are locking,” Alex said. “Safety precaution.”

“Precaution against what?”

Alex ignored her. He took two quick steps to the door nearest him and shot a foot out. His timing couldn’t have been better as the door slid closed by remote command. It hit his shoe and retracted, half-open.

The alarm began to repeat. Three shrieking beeps.

When the sound stopped, he crouched and checked his pistol. His foot still held the door open. “Tania, how far is Gray Level?”

She heard the question. The words made sense. No answer came to mind. She realized she was shaking and tried to still her hands.

“Tania!” Neil said. They were all staring at her.

“One,” she said, hating the fear she heard in her voice. She swallowed and tried again. “One level over. Not far, but you’ll need a code to override the junction door.”

“I don’t need the code,” Alex said.

“Of course, I—”

“You all stay here until the alarm ends.”

“No,” Sofia said. “I don’t want to be trapped in this dark little room. The alarm could last hours.”

Neil nodded. “She’s right. We’re coming with you.”

“You’re not coming with me,” Alex said. “End of discussion.”

“Gray Level isn’t far,” Neil said. “What’s—”

“The problem isn’t on Gray Level,” Alex said. His voice was so calm, so collected.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Neil asked.

Alex finished checking the gun. He held it upright, now, and had a finger on the trigger. He was looking outward, toward the hallway, and didn’t glance back. “We don’t rally security to the location of the problem, especially on a station-wide alert. We rally to the adjacent section, so we can go in together.”

Realization hit Tania like a shadow falling.

“The problem isn’t on Gray,” Neil said, for all of them. “It’s here, on this level.”

“Yes,” Alex replied, and stood. His voice had dropped to almost a whisper, Tania realized. “Wait here. I’ll be back soon.”

Tania took a step forward. “We could go to scope control. It’s just a few doors down. There’s food and water there, and a bathroom. In case …”

He looked ready to argue, before pushing the door open. “Fine. We’re just wasting time. Follow me, but not too close.”

The deserted hallway beyond was lit with bright yellow emergency LEDs, running in strips along the edges of the floor. Every few seconds a bank of red lights on the ceiling would flash.

Alex went ahead, keeping to one side of the upward-curving hall. He drew the fingers of his left hand along the wall as he walked. His gun remained pointed at the ceiling. In the brightness, the weapon seemed small, pitiful even.

At the first door, Alex glanced back to Tania, eyebrows raised. She shook her head and signaled with four fingers the number of doors yet to go.

He nodded and went on. Ten seconds later he stopped dead and crouched. Without thinking, Tania mimicked the pose. She chanced a look back and saw that Neil and Sofia had done the same.

She saw a hint of a smile on Neil’s lips. Some part of him was enjoying this.

Alex made a soft noise. Tania turned back to him and found the security director had come back to her. He was crouched right in front of her, eye to eye.

He placed a finger to his lips and pointed back the way they’d come.

Tania turned, her heart hammering inside her chest. She felt her eyes watering and realized she hadn’t blinked in some time. If felt as if someone were holding her eyelids open. She forced herself to blink, and felt tears forming at the edges.

Alex put a firm hand on her shoulder and pushed her into swifter motion. He guided her back to the door they’d just passed. Neil and Sofia kept going until Alex made a subtle click with his tongue. They both looked back in unison, then stopped.

With a quiet professionalism, Alex moved beside Tania, stood, and tapped in a code to override the door lock. The thud as the lock disengaged made her jump.

He crouched again and whispered, “Inside. Stay until the alarm ends. No noise.”

The words left no room for argument.



Half an hour passed in total silence. Then another.

The room, someone’s vacant quarters, was even smaller than the observation room. A simple bunk on the far wall, a desk with terminal, some shelves of books, and a closet. Standard issue, identical to Tania’s own. She’d tried the terminal right away, only to find it locked with someone else’s passphrase.

Sofia Windon sat on the floor, legs tucked underneath her. She kept near the door as if to be ready to leave the instant they could.

Neil and Tania sat on the bunk. Twice Neil had tried to speak, but Tania waved him off. She tried to focus on sound. Every little noise spooked her.

Each tiny shift in the hum of the air processors. A repetitious grinding from somewhere inside the walls, probably a bad bearing inside a fan. Neil’s fingers tapping absently on the blanket.

Her own measured breathing.

As the minutes rolled by, with no activity from outside, no sound of struggle or combat, she felt her pulse drop to something close to normal. The third time Neil spoke, she didn’t try to stop him.

“Alex and I might not get along,” he whispered, “but he can handle this. Whatever it is.”

She nodded. The man had reacted to the situation with surprising poise, she thought.

If Sofia heard, or cared, she showed no sign of it. Her attention remained firmly on the door.

Neil tapped Tania’s arm. He’d set his briefcase on the bed between them, and at some point opened it. Inside was a small box. He lifted the lid and spoke in a low voice. “The genuine articles. I hope you can read Japanese.”

Tania shook her head. Annoyance rose within her that Neil would want to discuss their secret project now. But the sensation faded. After sitting for an hour, with no indication at all from Alex, a diversion held some appeal. She chanced a glance at the contents of the box.

Four white cubes were nestled inside, each marked with kanji. The tension of their situation vanished as she shifted focus. “I don’t read Japanese,” she said, “but I can feed them through the translator down in Compute.”

“Is that safe?”

Tania shrugged. “It’s probably logged,” she said, careful to keep her voice low, “but at least I can move the results to my secure cube.”

Neil pressed his lips into a thin line. After a few seconds, a slight nod. He looked gloomy to Tania. A trick of the light, perhaps.

“Do it then,” he said, “but erase the logs when you’re done.”

“I have no idea how to do that. And such things are monitored.”

“Hell,” Neil spat. He wrung his hands together. “Why is everything so complicated?”

Tania leaned back into the wall as his mood worsened. She attempted to impart calm with her voice. A tough thing when speaking in whispers. “It may take some time. If I could get Natalie to help—”

“We discussed this already,” Neil said. “It’s too early to trust anyone else. Until we know what we’re dealing with—”

“If there is something to deal with,” Tania corrected.

“If? If? Of course there is. Why would the Builders send—” He stopped, glancing at Sofia. The woman hadn’t moved. Neil lowered his voice further. “Why send the space elevator here, then the bloody disease, only to stop there? A little prank? No, something will happen. It may already be happening.”

“What do you mean?” She knew the answer but asked anyway.

He frowned at her and jerked his eyes toward the door. “The power disruptions on the cord? The subhuman on Ag-Three? I have a hunch what’s going on outside that door, too. I’m beginning to feel these are the signs of the fourth—sorry, third—event. What if, instead of another ship, the Elevator simply expires?”

His words chilled her to the core. She’d never seen him like this, so full of bottled-up fear. Tania closed her eyes and digested his words. “It’s speculation. Accurate, perhaps, but speculation. The data will tell us. There’s no reason to worry about it until then.”

“There’s every reason to worry,” he said through clenched teeth. He leaned against the wall, too, massaging his temples.

“Neil …”

“Let me think.”

“No, Neil … the door.”

A shadow obscured the tiny line of light at the base of the door. A firm knock came and Sofia jumped to open it.

“Find out if another ship is coming, Tania,” Neil said as he stood. “Do it fast, but do it alone.”

Alex Warthen stood in the hallway outside. He looked disheveled. Tania’s eyes were instantly drawn to a splotch of blood on his shirtsleeve.

“It’s over now,” he said. “I’m keeping lockdown in effect until we can clean up.”

No one spoke.

Alex answered their unspoken question. “Another sub. A woman.”

Tania covered her mouth with her hands to mask her gasp. “Oh no. Who?” Please, not Natalie.

“One of the janitorial crew, I’m told. She thought everything was trying to kill her, and ran until cornered.”

“Was anyone hurt?” Neil asked. He sounded tired.

“Six injured, one seriously. The subhuman we had to … put down.”

“Oh no,” Tania said. A death, a violent death, aboard the station. It sounded more alien than the Builder’s shell. She felt dizzy and put one hand on the wall. Her heart raced. She looked to Neil, wanting the strength she’d found there so many times before.

He was staring back at her with an expression hard as stone.

Tania realized he was looking for strength, too.