Tanaka paused at the oblong opening to a passageway that curved down deeper into the station. A trickle of lights like pale blue fireflies trickled out of it and into the wider chamber behind them.
“I thought I told you to stay close,” Tanaka said. “Next time, do it.”
“Colonel,” Teresa said. “Please proceed.”
Miller, now at Teresa’s side, swept his hat off and rubbed at his temple with the palm of his hand. “Jesus Christ. Is anyone not in charge here?”
Tanaka turned and led the way down the passage. The glow from the walls here took on a deep, buttery yellow. The lines in them went from spirals to frenetic dashing lines that reminded Jim of being very young and his parents driving him through a snowstorm. After about a hundred meters, the passage began to change, widening along the oval’s longer axis and narrowing along the lesser until Jim could put his hands on either side.
“It’s getting too thin,” Teresa said. “We’re not going to fit.”
“Stay close.”
The passage kept widening and flattening until Jim felt like they were making their way through a crack in a cave system. The sense of mass on either side started to become claustrophobic, but Tanaka kept pressing ahead.
His timer went off.
“I’m running a fever, but otherwise fine,” he said.
“What?”
“You wanted me to check in. I’m checking in. Little fever. Feeling fine. Maybe we should all be keeping each other up to date. I show you mine, you show me yours. Reciprocity.”
Tanaka turned back, pushing herself past Teresa and toward him like an eel in a coral reef. Her jaw shifted as she moved to a private channel. He matched her.
“Captain Holden,” she said. “I appreciate what you’ve done to get me into this station, but I’m here now. It’s seeming like your present utility to me is considerably less. So I would very much recommend you stop giving me your fucking attitude before I start thinking about how much I owe you a bullet in the face. Reciprocity, and all.”
She nodded once, sharply, like she was agreeing with herself on his behalf, and moved back to the open channel.
“This is a dead end. We’re heading back and trying again.”
She pushed past Jim, moving toward the chamber they’d left behind. Teresa followed her. Jim floated for a moment, his hand on one wall, his back on the other. A breath of fireflies swirled up from the depths where the passage was too thin for human beings and rose up past Teresa and Tanaka.
“You shot her in the face, huh?” Miller asked.
“She was trying to kill us at the time,” Jim replied. “But honestly, I think it was more because she reminded me of every Laconian interrogator who’d ever beat the shit out of me.”
“As revenge for a beating goes, a face shot is pretty good.”
“It didn’t make me feel better.”
“You know,” Miller said, “there was this guy when I was just starting with Star Helix. Jason. Pissed off the boss, I don’t remember how. Got stuck working data forensics. That doesn’t sound bad, but what it meant was going through people’s logs. The security footage. The creepy shit perps kept hidden from the main partitions. Day after day after day of watching horrific things play out and not being able to do a goddamn thing about it. It started getting into his head. The union shrink called it ‘continuous ongoing trauma.’ We all kind of knew what was coming. That one reminds me of him.”
Jim killed his mic and launched himself up after them, following the bottoms of their feet. “How long did he last?”
“Year and a half. Almost nineteen months. We all thought that was pretty damn good. Most people on that job find a way to get out after six months.”
“I don’t think we have six months.”
“I’m just saying Colonel Friendly had an edge to her before all this started. She’s not doing well now. You should be ready for the possibility that you’ll have to shoot her again before this is over.”
“Last time I shot her she wasn’t in Laconian power armor, and I still didn’t successfully kill her.”
“Well, old fella,” Miller said, “that’s gonna be a problem.”
Chapter Forty-Two: Alex
I’m still seeing lag on the aft PDCs,” Alex said. “It’s only fifteen milliseconds, though. It’s not bad.”
“I hear you,” Amos said. “But I don’t have anything else I’m doing, and lag’s still lag. Give me a minute to isolate the line.”